


The Sonday Report

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Career, Alternate Universe - Politics, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Podcast, Politics, Self-Sabotaging Barba, Slow Build, Slow Burn, senator barba
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Former presidential speech writer and host of a popular podcast, Sonny Carisi has a crush on a New York State Senator, and no one is going to let him live it down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the lovely dominick-carisi-jr over on tumblr who let me adopt her wonderful head canon to turn into this fic. http://dominick-carisi-jr.tumblr.com/tagged/podcaster-sonny%2Fsenator-barba-au 
> 
> I can only pray that this little thing does it justice.

“Good morning, Sondasies,” Sonny smiled brightly into a microphone, leaning back casually in his chair. 

“No we talked about this, you need to stop calling the listeners Sondasies, it's narcissistic enough that you named our podcast after yourself,” Amanda butted in, throwing a displeased glance across the table. 

“We, Amanda. We named the podcast after me because nothing sounds good with Amanda,” Sonny laughed, “anyway, welcome to The Son-Day Report. We’ve got some really interesting conversation coming up with a incredible guest.”

“But first,” Amanda swiveled in her chair, leaning into her mic as she glanced across the table at their guest, waiting patiently for the interview to start, “we have to thank our sponsors.”

“Because they pay us so we don’t have to have real jobs-”

“Because we’re grateful and appreciative,” Amanda rolled her eyes, though it was more playful than anything. 

Sonny reached up, flicking the switch to mute his mic while Amanda prattled off their advertisements, and he let his desk chair roll closer to their guest, seated comfortably in front of her own microphone. “You ready?” He asked with a bright smile, motioning for her to turn her own mic on. He rolled his chair rather ungracefully back to his mic and shot Amanda a cheesy thumbs up as he unmuted his mic. 

“...And today we have with us New York State Representative Olivia Benson, welcome to the show, Congresswoman Benson, we really appreciate you joining us,” Amanda finished up her speech. 

“Thank you so much for having me,” Olivia crossed her legs, adjusting in her chair. “Before we get started I wanted to say I really appreciate and value what you both do here. It is so important to make these difficult issues digestible and informative, and you have done a really great job at that, so thank you.” 

“Aw shucks, well, thank you so much, Congresswoman-” Sonny started.

“Please, call me Olivia,” she interjected quickly. 

“Olivia,” he corrected with a thoughtful smile, “we’re so glad you think so highly of us. I mean, really we were just scrambling to figure out what the hell to do with our lives after this presidential election.”

“Not much job security in presidential speech writing,” Amanda remarked dryly, earning a soft chuckle from Olivia. 

“I think you probably lucked out all things considered, not sure how much you would have thrived under the new administration,” Olivia added.

“True, true,” Sonny nodded, “and I’m not sure I’d be able to handle my words coming out of his mouth,” he added with a laugh. 

“To be fair they probably wouldn’t come out anything like you wrote them,” Amanda broke out into a grin. “But moving on, because we all know we could bitch about this for the whole hour, I want to jump right into talking about this Domestic Violence against Women bill you’ve been championing in the House.” 

“Oh absolutely, so let me start by saying it’s actually two separate bills that we’ve introduced. I firmly believe they go hand in hand because they touch on the same underlying concerns.” 

Sonny shifted in his seat, crossing his legs in his chair and Amanda shot him a dirty look across the table. “So what are these two bills and why are they so important?” He asked to prod the conversation forward as he looked around for his headset mic instead. 

“So the first is a bill to limit the sale of firearms to people who have court orders of protection or restraining orders against them, as well as limiting the sale of firearms to people with misdemeanor stalking convictions,” Olivia explained, watching with piqued curiosity as Sonny switched to his headset, standing up to stretch his knees. “One in three women will experience rape, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner. And every day on average, three women are killed by current or former partners. We’re not doing enough to protect these women, but one option we have is disarming the people who pose a serious threat to their safety.” 

“So we crunched the numbers before you got here.” 

“Just to impress you,” Sonny cut her off with grin. 

“And that means that approximately 7,000,000 women are raped or physically assaulted by a current or former intimate partner each year. That’s an incredibly overwhelming number of women,” Amanda continued, turning in her chair to watch Sonny pace around the room. 

Olivia’s eyes followed him as well, “exactly. The second bill is called the Fair Housing for Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Survivors Act. Nearly fifty percent of homeless women report that domestic violence was the cause of their homelessness. Once homeless, women are further vulnerable to sexual victimization and exploitation,” she paused for a moment.

“Our research, with the New York Attorney General suggests that over half of domestic assault victims reported that discrimination by landlords was a significant obstacle to obtaining housing. Research also shows that victims are often denied housing if their previous residence was a domestic shelter, if they ever secured a restraining order, or if there was any evidence of domestic violence incidents. Often times victims are evicted based on a single domestic violence incident, which essentially only further punishes a vulnerable person in need of help.”

“That’s horrifying, I had no idea that housing and domestic violence were so entwined,” Sonny remarked. “So how does the bill help to solve that problem?” 

“Well obviously it’s not a hundred percent fix,” Olivia started. 

“But then nothing really is,” Amanda interjected. 

Olivia nodded before continuing, “the purpose of this bill is to add these specifications to the Fair Housing Act, so that landlords cannot discriminate against sexual assault or domestic violence survivors. It provides them a remedy under law.” 

“So Congresswoman,” Sonny dropped back down into his chair unceremoniously. “Olivia,” he corrected, “I understand that nothing is a perfect fix, but it seems to me that if someone is having that much trouble finding housing, or is already living on the street, they wouldn’t really have much opportunity to pursue a lawsuit. So how does this help?” 

Olivia’s lips pulled into a bit of a knowing smile, “yes unfortunately that is one of the problems with our legal system. In order to exercise rights guaranteed by law, you often have to have the capital to bring them to court. That said, like we saw with other non-discrimination acts, the law itself will hopefully have a deterrent effect, to prevent some of this discrimination in the first place, and certainly some people will be able to exercise this right. But really we’re just thinking of it as a first step.” 

Amanda nodded along, eyes trained on the impressive woman across the table from her, “that makes a lot of sense. So these bills have been introduced into the House. Not all of our listeners are poli sci majors, so could you explain a little bit about what happens next, and how they can support these Bills?” 

“Of course, so I, along with several fellow representatives introduced this earlier in the year. It was then referred to a committee. The committee requests opinions from relevant government agencies, holds hearings, and then votes on whether it should move on. After that the majority leader, William Dodds, decides when the bill will reach the floor. There are debates, and then its brought for a vote.”

Olivia shifted, crossing her legs, “if the bill passes, then it also has to be passed through the Senate and signed by the President. Our bills are still being considered by the committees at this point, so the most important thing is to contact your local representatives and make sure that you voice your support and encourage them to vote in favor.” Sonny and Amanda both listened intently as she spoke, her tone even but resonating with a certain gravitas that Sonny knew was what separated the politicians and the speech writers. 

“So if these bills make it through the House, how much support are you expecting in the Senate? I know the legend goes that the Senate is where dreams go to die-” Amanda laughed lightly. 

“Well they’ve been pretty well received so far. I’d like to think that protecting victims of sexual assault and domestic violence is a pretty bipartisan issue, but I’ve been working closely with several Senators on drafting this legislation, as well as gathering support.” 

Sonny’s eyes brightened, perking up in his chair, “so, as a representative for New York State, have you been working on this with Senators Novak and Barba?” he asked unable to keep the smile from playing across his lips. 

Amanda groaned, “don’t answer that, then he won’t shut up about Senator Barba.” 

“I just think he’s impressive,” Sonny shot back quickly. 

Olivia let out a short laugh, “Senator Barba and I are good friends actually,” she nodded and Sonny shot daggers across the table at Amanda with his eyes. “He’s been instrumental in garnering support in the Senate.” 

“See, Amanda, impressive,” Sonny added. 

“Yeah it's got nothing to do with, how did you put it a few weeks ago, that his eyes look like literal emeralds?” She shot back teasingly, “anyway, we’re about out of time.” Sonny glared again, miffed that he didn’t have the opportunity to defend himself as she continued, “thank you so much for coming on the show, Congresswoman. I’d offer to call my representative but, you’re already here,” she joked. 

“Yeah thank you so much for telling us more about this legislation,” Sonny added. 

“Thank you both, I hope you’ll have me back soon.” 

“Absolutely.”

Sonny swiveled around in his chair to stop the recording as he tugged the headset off his ears. “That was great, we just have to record the outro now but don’t want to waste your time,” he announced as he stood up again. 

Amanda and Olivia stood up as well, circling the table towards the door of the tiny recording studio that they called home. Sonny offered his hand first, and Olivia leaned in just a little with a grin on her face, “don’t worry, I won’t tell Rafael about your crush.”

A light flush spread across Sonny’s cheeks as Amanda practically cackled over his shoulder. “It’s not…” he started to say, but Olivia had already turned, heading out of the studio, throwing a sly smirk over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. 

“Oh I like her,” Amanda laughed, dropping back into her chair with an unceremonious huff. Sonny just rolled his eyes, pulling his headset back on. “You ready?” Amanda looked up, hand hovering over the record button so they could finish up the show. 

Sonny nodded, watching Amanda count down on her fingers, “Again that was New York State Representative Olivia Benson. Make sure all of you listeners reach out to your local representatives to voice your support for the Domestic Violence Bills currently in the House.”

“And we’re about out of time, thank you guys so much for listening.” 

“See you next Sunday, Sondaisies.” 

Amanda rolled her eyes, “we’re not using that term.” She cut the recording before Sonny had a chance to bite back and laughed at the indignant look on his face. 

“I don’t see what’s so bad about the term.” 

“It’s awful,” Amanda laughed, standing up to grab her jacket off the side table, sliding one arm in, and then the other. She raised her arm to check her watch, “it always throws me off that we record these on Saturday evenings and post them on Sunday mornings,” she remarked, “I’ve gotta go relieve the babysitter, do you want to come over for dinner?” 

Sonny shook his head as he pulled a blood red scarf around his neck, shrugging into his coat. “I can’t, I’ve got plans,” a flash of a nervous smile played across his lips, not lost on Amanda, who’s smile curled into a feral grin. 

“A date?” She asked with the crook of an eyebrow. 

Sonny just rolled his eyes and collected his bag off the chair, “let’s go.”

* * *

Sonny shifted in his chair, flashing a bright smile at the waitress as she set two entrees down in front of them, “thank you,” he nodded before turning back to the woman sitting across from him. She was beautiful of course, soft brown eyes, a sweet smile, but her nose wrinkled up for a moment as she glanced at the plate in front of him, branzino alla griglia. She hadn’t mentioned she was vegan until after the waitress had walked away from taking their order. 

“This smells good,” she added with a smile, and Sonny relaxed a little and let himself dig into his meal with restrained enthusiasm. The night had gone alright so far, easy enough conversation, she worked as a journalist and had quite a few interesting stories to relay. 

“So how incredible was it to work in the White House?” Ariel looked at him with doe-eyed awe. Sonny shied away from the look, eyes trained on the rich merlot colored table cloth, the cool touch of silver under his fingertips. 

“It was incomparable,” he shrugged almost shyly, “I can’t think of anything more incredible than sitting in the audience listening to the president of the United States speaking your words,” Sonny answered truthfully. “That said, I’m really enjoying this podcast thing I’ve been working on. It’s sort of nice to be able to be acknowledged for work instead of having everything credited to someone else.” 

Ariel nodded, setting down her knife and fork, a thoughtful expression playing across her soft features, “when do you think you’ll go back?” She asked curiously. Sonny just cocked his head. “To speech writing I mean,” she clarified. 

“Oh…” Sonny trailed off. He hadn’t given the idea much thought, all things considered. What with the state of politics at the moment, he knew he didn’t have any hope of working for a cabinet member, much less the president, and everything else would feel like a giant step back in his career, after spending the last eight years working with his hero. “I don’t know, I’m really like what I’m doing now, honestly. I haven’t put much thought into anything else since the podcast’s popularity exploded.” 

Ariel furrowed her brow for a moment, looking up at him, “oh, I didn’t realize you were planning on doing that long term,” but her face broke into a smile. 

“It is named after me after all, and Amanda might have trouble nailing the witty rapport without a co-host,” he joked lightly, but Ariel just tilted her head slightly, wide doe eyes batting at him. Sonny paused for a moment. 

Before he could think of something to add, their waitress flitted back over to the table, “would you two like to see a dessert menu?” she asked with a pointed smile. Sonny gestured to Ariel, offering the decision to her. 

“No thank you, I think we’re set, just the check please.”

It was a brisk night, but not overwhelmly cold, and Ariel decided to decline the cab Sonny had offered, instead choosing to take his arm as they walked back to her apartment. He glanced down, watching his shoes tap a steady rhythm on the concrete. He’d had a good time, the food had been as incredible as always, and he savored the feeling of her small hand gripping at his arm, pressed into his side for warmth. 

“This is me,” Ariel announced lightly as they came to a halt in front of a charming brick rowhouse. 

“It’s cold, so I won’t keep you,” Sonny smiled gently, “but I had a good time, I hope you’ll let me take you out again.” 

Her face softened into a grin, “I’d like that.” 

Sonny leaned in, dropping a chaste kiss on her pink and windburned cheek before they parted ways. He smiled the whole way home, biting back the pang of doubt. She wasn’t a senator, wasn’t a champion for justice, but she also wasn’t an impossibility, and that’s what he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably just rename this fic "you gon' learn today" because these podcasts are becoming informational. This one isn't related to any current legislation, but hopefully you guys like it! Don't worry, the Sonny/Rafael stuff is coming shortly!

Sonny tapped his foot impatiently as he stood in line at the cafe, line stretching back to the door. He usually managed to miss the morning rush on his way to the tiny office he and Amanda called headquarters, up a little later than most since he got to set his own hours. But Amanda liked to do their weekly “staff meetings” at the coffee shop, insisting that she’d go crazy if she spent too much time in closed quarters with him. He couldn’t really blame her. He checked his watch as the line moved forward with a snail like pace, and glanced around to see if Amanda had arrived yet. 

“Next!” His gaze snapped back to the counter, barista looking at him expectantly, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She knew his name, knew his coffee order, it was the same as it was every day, but she still glared at him like he had offended her entire family. 

“Good morning Jenny,” he smiled brightly anyway, determined to ignore the fact that their singular date had been horribly dull.

“What can I get you?” she asked dryly, refusing to let even a hint of familiarity grace her features. 

“Large Americano over ice and a latte with ristretto shots,” he replied pleasantly, though it was the same thing he told her every morning, the same thing she used to have prepared before he even arrived. He had considered switching coffee shops after the failed date, but it was the only one in a ten block radius that actually roasted their own beans, and he’d be damned if he let a minor inconvenience stand in the way. He handed her the cash, let her keep the change, and settled into the back corner table he always favored. 

Amanda was running late, or so he assumed because she still hadn’t walked through the door. It wasn’t terribly unusual, and he didn’t mind, knowing she had a dog and an infant to concern herself with.  He settled into his chair and pulled out his phone instead, trying to catch up on the latest news, the current twitter outrage. It was almost an impulse, really, to check Senator Barba’s twitter, and facebook page, the last rant about the president’s most recent tweet storm. 

He was still biting back a smile at the latest snippet of Barba’s video tirade when Amanda dropped into the seat across from him with a loud huff, hands immediately grabbing for the second coffee sitting on the table. “You are an angel,” she added before taking a long, desperate swig from the cup. 

“Rough morning?” Sonny laughed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for his bag to pull out a notebook and pen. Amanda just groaned, letting her forehead hit the table with a bit of a dramatic flare. 

“Jesse was up all night with a low fever, and Frannie kept begging to go out,” she mumbled into the table. 

“Awe the little punk, she’s feeling better now though, right?” Sonny asked, flipping his notebook open to a blank page, smoothing down the binding. 

Amanda nodded, finally lifting her head back off the table to take another sip of her coffee. “The babysitter is going to check her fever every hour and let me know if it gets any worse, but she’s only hovering at 99.9 right now,” she sighed, and Sonny frowned at the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Let’s make this quick then, see if we can get you home early,” he took a sip of his latte and uncapped his pen, shifting in his chair to cross his leg over his knee. 

“We don’t have a guest lined up for next week, do we?” Amanda grimaced, they were spectacularly bad at planning things too far in advance. Neither of them had been particularly organized or ahead of the game while working in the White House, but they hadn’t needed to be, more responsive to current events than anything else. It was a flaw that had persisted into their new venture. 

“We don’t even have a topic picked out,” Sonny laughed, tucking the pen behind his ear knowing that there wasn’t going to be anything worth jotting down just yet. “I’ve been scrolling through the usual feeds this morning, but it’s just the same old dribble, Toddler-In-Chief tweeting up a storm. We just had Benson on talking about the House,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Anyone you had in mind?”

Amanda sighed and reached for her bag, pulling out her tablet. She flipped it open in one quick movement and pulled up notes. “I don’t have anything off the top of my head. There’s nothing in the headlines we can jump off of?” She flipped through a few news apps, nursing her coffee in her other hand. 

“Nothing particularly fresh,” Sonny shook his head. 

“Well,” Amanda scrolled through the comments on their latest episode. “The one thing we get a lot of is how clear our slant is towards the left,” she paused, looking up from the tablet. “What if we did something about bipartisanship? We could see if we could get one of the more… rational Republican senators as a guest?” 

Sonny hesitated, pulling the pen from his ear to start scratching his half illegible scrawl across the page, “I mean, something like that has a lot of potential to derail, we’d have to keep a pretty tight leash. I’m not really interested in giving more of a platform to bigotry…” he trailed off, looking back up at her. 

“What if we got Rita Calhoun?” Amanda’s eyes widened, and Sonny knew the look all too well, the gears turning in her head. “I think I read that she was going to be in New York for a charity gala-” Sonny interrupted with a snort, “and she’s buddy buddy with your boyfriend, so she must have a bit of common sense in her,” Amanda continued, ignoring his interruption. 

“When are you going to let that go, I just respect the guy,” Sonny groaned indignantly. 

“Yeah you _respect_ his Roosevelt nature, speak softly and carry a big stick,” she raised her eyebrow suggestively, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. 

“You’re impossible,” Sonny dropped his pen to the table, rubbing his eyes. “Fine though, yeah, let’s see if we can get Calhoun, we’ll just have to have a convo with her first about the sort of topics we’re not interesting in getting into.” 

* * *  
“Good morning, welcome to The Sonday Report, I’m your host-”

“Co-host,” Amanda interrupted quickly. 

“I’m your co-host, Sonny Carisi, pastry enthusiast, twitter verified, former speech writer to the stars.”

“To the president,” Amanda corrected, rolling her eyes across the table. 

“Are you suggesting that the president isn’t a star?” Sonny teased lightly, shifting in his chair. 

“To which president are we referring?” Amanda bit back quickly. “Anyway, hello, I’m Amanda Rollins, co-host, former speechwriter for President Obama. We’re here today with US Senator from Virginia, Rita Calhoun,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair to speak into the mic, glancing across the table to where the older woman sat, poised and dignified. 

“Before you all lose your minds, we know. She’s a…” Sonny lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “Republican.” He let it linger like a curse in his mouth and shot a grin over to their guest, knowing well enough that she wouldn’t be offended by the ribbing. 

“I know you guys can’t actually see him right now, but Sonny’s making the sign of the cross,” Amanda added. 

“They warned you of the devil with horns and a forked tongue,” Rita smirked, “they didn’t warn you about the devil in high heels and a skirt suit.” 

“They tried to, we didn’t listen, the devil wears Prada, right?” Sonny laughed, “But really, thank you so much for accepting our olive branch and agreeing to a temporary ceasefire to record this podcast.” 

“Certainly,” Rita nodded, watching with curiosity as Sonny stood up from his chair again. “I do think it’s important, now more than ever, to have these sorts of conversations across party lines. Insularity has historically been a pretty severe downfall,” she lifted her chin slightly, leaning into the desk mic, “besides, you guys are buying me lunch and even the devil has to eat.” 

“We offered to buy her lunch?” Sonny turned to Amanda, who had set up the interview, but she just shook her head. 

“Oh I didn’t tell you? You’re buying me lunch,” Rita replied matter-of-factly with an impish grin. 

“Hey now,” Amanda laughed, “your president put us out of a job, really if anything you should be buying us lunch.” 

“You two seem to be doing pretty well despite yourselves,” Rita grinned, “if anything I’d say you really found your niche, so you can buy me lunch as a thank you for pushing you guys out of the White House.” 

Sonny laughed, crossed the room, leaning to rest his hip against the counter on the far wall. “Alright, we’ll figure out lunch plans after the podcast. So just so our little Sondasies are aware,”

“Listeners,” Amanda interrupted with a glare.

“Today’s discussion is going to be a little different in that we’re not going to be discussing policy or current events. Instead we thought we’d talk more generally, about bipartisanship, about persuasion, and about how to approach these sorts of debates, especially when it comes to sensitive, personal subjects.” He twirled a pen between his fingers as he spoke into his headset. 

“Before we get to that, though, if you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Calhoun, telling us a little bit about yourself,” Amanda continued before settling back into her chair. 

“First, please, call me Rita,” she started slowly, still watching Sonny pace around the small room. “If you’re interested in my biography you can wait a few years until I finally publish that literary masterpiece, but I’ll skim the highlights. I was born and raised in a rural small town in Virginia, yes it was a former plantation, I don’t think there’s any sense in denying that. I went to Vassar for my Bachelor’s, majored in Women’s Studies to my father’s eternal displeasure, and then Law School at Harvard to his eternal satisfaction.” 

Amanda and Sonny exchanged a questioning look, but didn’t interrupt, just turned back to Rita expectantly. 

“I worked as a commercial litigator for about five years out of law school in New York before I moved back to Virginia. I worked in Richmond as a ADA for two years, ran for mayor, served my term, and then ran for Senator, and that’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten years or so.”

“Why did you leave commercial litigation to work criminal law?” Amanda asked, cocking her head with genuine curiosity. 

“I liked it, I did. I know a lot of my colleagues in the House and Senate like to knock civil law practice but I enjoyed trying cases, I thought it was fun learning about the companies I represented, but I’ve always had political ambitions. I think that’s sort of taboo to say as a woman, but I wanted to be in a position to affect real change, and one of the most significant ways to do that is through policy making.” 

“That makes sense, I think you’re right, too, that nobody blinks twice about a man admitting political ambition, even so far as admitting pure desire for power, but women are expected to sort of play coy and talk about noble causes and wanting to make a difference,” Sonny nodded, leaning back to sit on the counter. 

“So our topic today is bipartisanship. Obviously one of our current cultural issues is this sort of polarization of issues, with quite a lot of heel digging which has made it difficult to make head way on a lot of issues,” Amanda continued, an annoyed expression crossing her face as Sonny stood back up, returning to his chair. “When you’re considering bills in the Senate, how much exchange is there really, between Republican and Democratic Senators?”

Rita laughed lightly, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she leaned a little closer to the mic, “you’d be surprised actually. We deal with a huge number of issues every year, not all of them are quite so controversial. And those that are, it’s a constant give and take, trying to convince the other side to see where you’re coming from, to persuade.”

Sonny nodded, twisting in his chair, leaning against one of the arm rests to look at their guest, “I’ve never spent any time in the senate while it’s in session, but as I’m sure you know, Amanda and I worked in the White House for eight years, and I have to say I was surprised by how high school it could get. I imagine with a hundred people in a room day in and day out, things can get a little heated…”

Rita through her head back, letting out a loud laugh, “god you have no idea how accurate that is.” She wiped a stray tear from her eye and continued, “no it can get pretty intense, our offices are all close together, we’re frequently eating meals together. Not to mention that some are more annoying than others. Take my office neighbor, Senator Barba for example,” she rolled her eyes dramatically. 

Amanda glanced over at Sonny, an exasperated look on her face, “everything seems to come back around to Senator Barba,” Sonny laughed lightly, “he seems to be a bit larger than life.” 

“His ego is, that’s for sure,” Rita muttered. 

“You two don’t get on?” Sonny asked curiously, “the internet seems to think that you two are friends.”

“Don’t get him started, really,” Amanda warned, “he really just wants to know if Senator Barba’s eyes are really that green in real life.”

Rita let out another loud laugh, “They’re pretty green around me, but I think that’s his jealousy talking,” she joked, “but no, Rafael and I are good friends, we were in the same year at Harvard Law, and we’ve been pretty competitive ever since.” 

“So I guess the big question,” Amanda didn’t give Sonny a chance to continue the questioning, knowing that it would be harder to get back on track, “is how we convince people to change their minds? How do we persuade? Because Sonny and I spent eight years drafting speeches trying to persuade, and I’m not sure we ever did. How do you reach into someone else’s brain and change what they’re thinking? I think everyone sort of has to come to that on their own.” 

Rita just shook her head, “to some extent, it’s difficult to change people’s minds. I obviously come from a legal background, and so obviously we spend quite a bit of time trying to figure out how to persuade people, juries, judges, our bosses. So there’s a legal theory that there’s only one true way to persuade, and that’s through the legal syllogisms.”

“Alright, we’re getting educational now, what’s a syllogism?” Sonny laughed. 

“I think most people have heard them even if they’re unfamiliar with the term. So it’s a type of deductive logic used in philosophy and law. They consist of a major premise, a minor premise and a conclusion. The beauty of the syllogism is that when presented with the properly framed major and minor premises, the human mind seems to produce the conclusion without any additional prompting. It’s an inevitable conclusion,” Rita explained, her hands gesturing slightly as she spoke. 

“Can you give us an example, for clarity?” Amanda cocked her head questioningly. 

“Sure, so as a major premise, all men are mortal. Minor premise, Sonny is a man. The inevitable conclusion therefore, is that Sonny is mortal,” Rita explained, earning a laugh from Amanda. “It’s basically nothing more than an application in words of the basic math principle of transitivity taught in elementary school, where if A equals B, and C equals A, then C also equals B. This particular type of logic I find most effective when using it to attempt to persuade people, because instead of telling them what to think, you offer them the major and minor premises, and allow them to come to the conclusion on their own. People tend to be more receptive ideas when they don’t feel like they’re being forced to think something.” 

“That definitely makes a lot of sense,” Sonny nodded, crossing his legs in his chair. “But I guess my concern is that your argument depends on the fact that people are rational human beings. But not everyone is rational. If you presented that syllogism, there are people out there who will come and attack my masculinity, and argue that I’m not a man.”

“Well they might have a point,” Amanda interjected with a grin. 

Sonny just rolled his eyes, “either way. I think there are two types of persuasion. I think you can persuade rational people with logic and syllogisms? Is that the plural form? But I think irrational people, you can persuade them with fear, and I think that’s a lot of what’s been going on lately.” 

“You make an excellent point,” Rita conceded. “I think it’s really unfortunate that there’s been so much fear mongering in political discussion lately, especially from my own party. I may be a tried and true Republican, but I think it’s imperative to go into senate hearings with an open mind. If you follow my records at all you’ll see that I have changed my stances on bills after hearings, I wish my fellow senators on both sides of the party line had that same mentality.” 

“Is that something you and Senator Barba share?” Sonny couldn’t help but add. 

“Oh Jesus Christ Sonny, might as well just ask her for his number…” Amanda interrupted with an exasperated sigh. 

“Alright, alright, we’re about out of time…” Sonny started the wrap up with a laugh. 

* * *

Sonny turned the piece of paper over in his hand thinking back to the few hours before, when Rita Calhoun had leaned in, pressing the note against his palm, and whispered, _you’re just his type, you know._

He let his thumb trace the pencil scrawled numbers. It was probably a joke anyway, it had been a running gig on their podcast from the very start. His phone vibrated against his thigh and he dug it out of his pocket. A text. 

**Ariel: Are we still meeting for dinner?**

He glanced back at the slip of paper and stuffed it back into his pocket before typing out a quick text. 

**Sonny: Absolutely.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to tobeconspicuous for her unending encouragement. <3

Sonny groaned as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the kitchen counter, head in his hands, hair still mussed from sleep. It was early, too early as far as he was concerned, sun just cresting the horizon, the bustle of the city only just picking up into frenzied movements as everyone made their way to work on the streets several stories below. 

“Dominick, I don’t understand why we have to have this conversation again,” her voice was raised, not enough for the neighbors to call in a noise complaint, but enough to grate at him, already nursing a headache, still uncaffeinated. Sonny rubbed his hands over his eyes, letting out a frustrated growl. 

“Because you keep bringing it up, Ariel. I appreciate you getting me the interview, I do,” he looked up from his hands. She was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing. “But I already told you, I’m not looking for anything right now. Amanda and I have a good thing going with the podcast. I just spent a month touring doing shows? Our ratings and viewers are higher than ever, we’ve gotten tons of offers for sponsorship.” 

“If you’re doing so well why do you still live in this shitty apartment?” She gestured widely around the little loft, crumbling brick and exposed ventilation, creaking floorboards and peeling paint. Sonny just rolled his eyes. This conversation again. 

“Jesus Ariel, do we have to rehash this conversation every morning? I’m sorry I’m not interested in spending five thousand dollars a month on rent for a place I’ll spend most of my time sleeping,” he groaned, dropping his head to his hands again. “We could spend more time at your place anyway, except you always give me shit about how your roommate doesn’t like me, so I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Fine, whatever, I have to go to work,” she replied, spinning on her heels, the door closing behind her with a loud slam before Sonny even had an opportunity to respond. 

Sonny just let out a heavy sigh, glancing at his watch. He had enough time to go back to sleep before his meeting with Amanda, but it was a moot point, knowing he was too riled from the conversation to settle back down to sleep. He wasn’t sure how it had devolved so fast. They’d only been dating for six months. Six months to go from innocent, reserved bliss to 5:30 AM arguments that they’d had time and time again. He pried himself away from the kitchen counter and started a pot of coffee with maybe a little bit more force than necessary. 

* * *

“Don’t you look like a ray of sunshine this morning,” Amanda joked as Sonny dropped into the seat across from her at their usual cafe, in their usual corner. He just shot a glare across the table, reaching for the second cup of coffee she had ordered from him. She reached forward, pulling the cup just out of his reach, “hey, no seriously, what’s up with you?”

Sonny shook his head, leaning forward to pull the cup out of her hands. Nothing could get by her, not after eight years in the trenches of the White House together, not after the last year working on the podcast together, the last month spent on the road together, with Jesse, “nothing, just got into it with Ariel this morning at the crack of dawn,” he took a long sip from the cup. Espresso would always have its advantages over the stuff he made at home. 

“Christ that girl really knows how to nag,” Amanda muttered, and Sonny pulled a face. Amanda had never been particularly restrained in voicing her opinions about the people Sonny dated, but she seemed to have more of an axe to grind with Ariel than the others before. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sonny wasn’t sure why he always felt the need to defend, even when he was still sort of reeling from their argument earlier. “She just doesn’t like my apartment and doesn’t understand why I can’t be bothered to move.” And she didn’t like his job. And she didn’t get along with Bella. And- he stopped himself. 

“It just doesn’t seem like you’re happy,” Amanda shrugged, “if you’re not happy then what’s the point of suffering through all of her crap?” she took a sip of her coffee, clearly calculated nonchalance playing across her face.  

“Don’t we have work to do?” Sonny frowned, pulling his notebook out of his bag. She’d recognize his obvious attempt to change the subject, he was sure, but he still wasn’t in the mood to have that sort of conversation

She rolled her eyes and reclined in her seat, nursing the cup of coffee, “alright, alright. I’ll let it go,” Amanda relented, holding up her hands defensively. “We don’t have a theme set for the next podcast, but I think we already talked about taking a break from having guests, since we’ve been leaning on that an awful lot lately,” she reached for her tablet. 

“Month long tour, two shows a week with two guests a show?” Sonny let out a genuine laugh, easing the tension of his sour mood. “Yeah I could go for some variety,” he leaned forward to peer at the screen in front of Amanda. 

“Have you seen everything that’s been hitting the headlines this morning?” Amanda asked, looking up from her tablet. Sonny was usually pretty plugged in. He spent an awful lot of time on news sites, commenting (openly and anonymously) on articles, tweeting constantly, he’d even figured out instagram and snapchat, but the argument from the morning still looming over his head, he hadn’t bothered to keep caught up. 

“No what’s going on?” He dug into his pocket for his phone, scrolling through the hundreds of notifications that only seemed to be growing exponentially with the podcast’s success. 

“It’s about your boyfriend,” the jokes, the running gag, hadn’t lessened any with the development of his relationship with Ariel, if anything Amanda had been even more eager to mention his affection for the senator. “Well, sort of, did you know he’s friends with one of the state senators? That guy who’s running for mayor of New York?”

“Alex Muñoz?” Sonny frowned, reaching for the tablet, taking it out of Amanda’s hands without waiting for permission. “Yeah he’s been ahead in the polls for weeks now, everyone thinks he’s a shoe-in for mayor. I had no idea he was close with Barba.” 

His eyes scanned the screen, index finger poised hovering over the glass, scrolling to keep up. “Sexting scandal?” Sonny murmured aloud. “They weren’t just friends, they grew up together?” He looked up to Amanda, who just shrugged her shoulders. 

“Is that?”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure…”

Sonny craned his head to look for the source of the hushed whispers, gaze landing on a group of young women, no more than nineteen, staring at him. From the red hues spreading across their faces as he looked over, he had a pretty good guess what the subject of their conversation was. 

The shortest of the three, but apparently the bravest stepped forward, closer to their table, “are you Sonny? From the Sonday Report?” She asked with wide eyed awe. 

Sonny fought the blush rising on his own cheeks. He’d seen his fair share of the tweets and instagram comments he had been getting lately, since the podcast had really kicked off, and at their live shows they had had a few enthusiastic listeners show up on the street in front of the venue, but he’d never been called out in public before. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m Sonny, this is Amanda,” he gestured to her, ignoring the amused grin curling the corners of her lips. “Are you guys listeners?” They took a few steps closer, tentatively, and Sonny had to laugh internally, he had always regarded himself as one of the dorkiest, least threatening people on the planet. 

“Oh my god, we’re obsessed,” the one girl spilled excitedly, “we’ve been listening to the beginning, total sondaisies,” a huge grin spread across Sonny’s face, and he glanced over to Amanda, relishing in her displeasure. 

“Ah the name’s catching on!” Sonny beamed. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Amanda warned through gritted teeth. 

“Would you mind taking a picture with us?” One of the girls asked cautiously, clearly worried about intruding. 

Sonny glanced at Amanda, still sort of stunned, but he eagerly agreed, sliding over in the booth to accommodate each girl as Amanda snapped their pictures. “Hey,” he added before they could leave, pulling out his phone. “Are you girls on twitter? I want to follow you,” Sonny continued with a smile. “And tag me if you post the photos!” 

Amanda just rolled her eyes as the girls moved on their way. “Your head’s going to explode if it gets much bigger,” she commented, but broke into a grin anyway. 

* * *

Without the threat of company, the usual third chair left empty, Sonny had plopped his ass down directly on the desk, headset over his ears, feet rolling his chair back and forth, no doubt driving Amanda nuts. She never really was fond of his inability to sit still for any length of time. “Good morning, Sondaises, and before Amanda cuts me off, I can confirm that Sondaises is in fact, the official brand, thanks to some lovely ladies I met last week.”

“We’re still in negotiations, Sonny, the case hasn’t been settled yet.” 

“It’s too late, Amanda, the ball has been set in motion,” Sonny grinned, turning to look at her across the table. “As you may already be aware, I’m Sonny Carisi, former presidential puppetmaster-”

“Speech-writer.”

“Well that was my official title. And I’m here with Amanda Rollins, former speech-writer, full time baby wrangler. This is the Sonday Report, where we try to drop some knowledge, break down some current events, or just generally entertain you for fifty nine and a half minutes,” Sonny stood up again, reaching into his bag to grab a baseball, rolling it between his hands. 

“We had a blast meeting so many of you listeners on our month long tour. If you missed it, we made pit stops in Seattle, Chicago, LA and Boston, and we’re certainly hoping to add more dates since we had such a good time,” Amanda drawled into the mic, glancing down at her notes. 

“Today we thought we’d go back to the basics and discuss some current issues in the headlines, considering some of the scandals that have been painting the media at least here in New York and probably nationwide, so you’re stuck with just the two of us for the next hour,” Sonny teased lightly. 

“Please keep listening anyway.” Amanda added quickly with a laugh, “so I’m sure many, if not most of you have heard about the scandal gripping the New York City mayoral race. But for those of you who haven’t, the democratic mayoral candidate, Alex Muñoz has been accused of exchanging sexually explicit text messages and photographs with a fifteen year old girl.” 

Sonny cringed at her words, hand grasping a little tighter around the red stitches on the baseball, the closest thing he had to a stress ball, and a carryover from his time at the White House. “Now of course, this behavior is despicable, and we’re obviously distraught over the allegation. Alex Muñoz at this point has not been indicted, though there absolutely have been whispers that the DA’s office is collecting evidence to make sure it sticks.”

“Despite all of our powerful connections, we don’t actually have contacts at the DA’s office here in New York, so let that be a caveat,” Amanda added, “one of the biggest aspects of the scandal of course, is its timing, considering the mayoral election is only a week or so away.” 

“The October Surprise is a pretty notorious political term of course, to refer to news stories created or timed to throw off election results. Alex Muñoz has been ahead on the polls for weeks now, and his campaign has been fairly progressive, he’d be the first Latinx mayor of New York City. It seems possible at this point that this scandal is no more than an attempt to sabotage his campaign,” Sonny’s gaze trained up as he tossed the ball in the air, catching it again with ease. 

“And of course, State Senator Muñoz has made a statement to that effect, that the allegations are simply the work of someone trying to undermine his efforts,” Amanda nodded. “To be quite honest I’m skeptical of the claim. It just doesn’t seem like this would be the type of thing someone would lie about- it’s too easy to prove it false,” she shrugged her shoulders casually, turning in her chair to look at Sonny again. 

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Muñoz. I didn’t really follow his career much in the state senate, and I’ve only been loosely following the mayoral race,” Sonny continued, his voice measured and thoughtful. 

“One of the most interesting things that’s been hitting the news cycle though, is Alex Muñoz’s long time friendship with Rafael Barba,” she shot an uncertain glance at Sonny. “Senator Barba’s name has appeared in quite a few reports on the scandal, but he has yet to make a public statement in support or condemnation of his friend,” she paused, “I’m not sure what to think of that, really. Sonny?” She deferred like they had planned. 

“Yeah, I think it’s sort of a lose lose situation right now,” Sonny sank back down into his chair, kicking his heels up onto the table. “On the one hand if he supports his friend, stands by him, and it turns out the allegations are true, his career is practically sunk, considering he’s going to be up for re-election soon. On the other hand, if he decrys his friend, he runs the risk of alienating political supporters and allies, as well as a close friend, especially if the allegations are false,” he paused, fingertips running over the blue inked signature on the ball. “That said, I have to admit I’m pretty disappointed he hasn’t at least made a statement condemning the conduct in the allegations. Easy enough to keep it neutral, like a ‘these allegations are especially heinous, any sort of person who engages in sexual conduct with a minor should be prosecuted to the fullest extent.” 

“Yeah, I think you’re right…”

* * *

Sonny glanced at his watch, tapping it gently to check for any notifications, any of the nagging reminders that he was running late. Just silence. He sighed, he was really only going to be a few minutes late, but they’d been doing nothing but arguing lately, and he wasn’t keen on starting another before dinner. 

He stepped out of a cab in front of a restaurant he didn’t recognize. It was Ariel’s pick, though it was always Ariel’s pick lately. A vegan place no doubt. His stomach rumbled loudly, the brisk fall air nipping at his bare skin as he approached the door, gaze already falling on the tensed figure outside. 

“You’re late,” he could hear her say before his eyes could even pull her features into focus. 

“I’m sorry, I got held up in traffic,” Sonny replied honestly, leaning in to drop a quick peck on her wind blushed cheek. He had gotten stuck behind slow moving tourists on the street and missed the train, he’d had to hail a cab just to make it to midtown at all. 

“Yeah okay,” she rolled her eyes, foot tapping impatiently against the pavement, and Sonny recoiled. He knew tardiness would start an argument, but Ariel seemed ready for war, not a petty dispute. 

“What’s wrong?” his brows furrowed, taking a step closer. Sonny wanted to reach out, wanted to close the chasm that seemed to be growing between them. He loved her, he did. “Did I do something?” 

Her eyes flashed, snarl curling on her lips as she dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone. “What’s this?” She shoved the phone towards his face, just a little too close for his eyes to adjust. He took it from her gently, forehead wrinkling. It was the picture he’d taken over a week ago, with the girls in the cafe. 

“It was just some fans of the podcast, Ari,” he frowned. “They caught me and Amanda in a meeting and asked to take pictures,” Sonny honestly wasn’t sure where the problem was, what line had been crossed. 

“You said you didn’t want our relationship all over the media,” her voice was increasing in volume and Sonny cringed, eyes darting around the street, knowing that they were causing a scene. “You just didn’t want all your little groupies to know you were unavailable,” she spat the words like venom. 

Sonny winced like she had cut him, eyes softening with confusion, “Ariel, I thought we agreed not to go public until we figured out exactly what we were,..” he trailed off, “if that’s not what you want-” 

She cut him off before the words had finished forming on his tongue, “fuck you, Dominick. Now we’re nothing.” 

Sonny wanted to go after her, wanted to catch her wrist, pull her back and explain the miscommunication, but he was stunned, feet rooted to the pavement as he watched her walk away. “I…” he stumbled, though she was already out of earshot, faint form fading into the darkness.

When he could finally tear his eyes away, he glanced at his watch again. Still early, barely six. He scanned the street to orient himself, and dug his hands in his pockets as he started to walk. 

It was ten blocks, autumn wind whipping up stray leaves and bits of grit off the street, but Sonny didn’t seem to notice, just kept his head craned up at the sky, the bits poking through dark purple clouds. He didn’t bother with the buzzer, just pulled a spare key off his key ring and let himself into the apartment building, and up the elevator in six flights. He paused, hand hovering against the door for a moment before he knocked. 

There was the sound of scratching, and then a few “get back” “get back”’s and the door swung open to reveal Amanda, already reduced to sweats, little Jesse on her hip, Frannie threatening to break through the threshold with excitement. 

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, but ushered him into the apartment anyway, immediately holding Jesse out to him. Sonny took the toddler into his arms, a smile breaking on his face for the first time all night as she reached for his hair, babbling smiles. “Didn’t you have dinner with Ariel tonight?”

Sonny dropped onto her couch, letting Jesse settle into his lap. “Yeah, I did. Don’t anymore. Or ever really,” he muttered through silly faces, eliciting squealing giggles from Jesse. “She broke up with me.”

Amanda frowned, pushing her hair back into a loose ponytail and heading into the kitchen, rifling around in the fridge, “do you want lasagna or chicken parm?” she called over her shoulder. 

“I’m guessing those are the trays I made you the other day?” he let out a gentle laugh, Amanda’s cooking had always been notoriously bad. Sonny had expected it to improve at least a little after having Jesse, but if anything, it had gotten worse. She knew better than to offer up her own creations to the amature foodie. “Which ever’s fine.”

“Absolutely,” Amanda laughed, peeling tinfoil off a disposable tray of lasagna, popping it into the oven before she sank into the couch next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” her eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I don’t really know what happened, I mean we were fighting a lot lately, but she freaked out over the pictures I took with those fans in the cafe,” he shrugged, shifting Jesse on his lap to bounce her on his knee. 

“I told you she was crazy,” Amanda reminded gently, “you should trust me on that, I’ve had plenty of experience with crazy, after everything with Kim.” 

“To be fair I assume that anyone willing to date me is sort of crazy,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I just, I don’t understand what’s wrong with me at this point. I feel like I’m moderately attractive at least, I try to be caring, and attentive, I worked in the freaking White House, for god’s sake, and I’m going to be spending my 37th birthday next week alone.” 

Amanda’s face softened with sympathy, and she elbowed him gently. “Hey now, you know you got us three,” she gestured to Jesse, and Frannie curled up at their feet. “You know we’ll spend your birthday with you. And hey, you never know how things are going to work out. I mean, when you met me nine years ago, did you ever think I’d be capable of parenting?” 

Sonny let out a laugh, bubbling up from the pit of his stomach, genuine. “You’ve got a point there at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, I promise, Rafael's appearance will be next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally have contact! Rafael makes his first appearance. Sonny resists the urge to comment on his height. Please enjoy.

Sonny groaned loudly, rolling over as his alarm blared on the nightstand, dragging him out of the depths of a dream fading into periphery. He winced, eyes squinting against the sunlight as he groped around for his phone to turn the alarm off. Instead, his hand missed, sending the phone to the floor, still screaming its morning reminder, and Sonny groaned again, craning himself out bed to reach and pick it back up. With a sigh of relief, he turned the screeching off and rolled back, weary eyes scanning the notifications he’d missed while sleeping. 

He caught the date and he let out a soft sigh. November 14th. He just rolled his eyes, and opened twitter, scrolling through hundreds and hundreds of notifications. Maybe it was a little petty, the vague and bitter tweets he’d posted sporadically over the last week, but the response had been overwhelmingly positive, the women, and men, flooding his inbox with condolences and compliments, and quite a few propositions which frankly were a little intimidating at times.

Sonny glanced at the time again, he still had two hours before he needed to be into the office, enough time to shower and hit the coffee shop. He whined aloud even though there was no one there to hear him, and briefly contemplated silencing his back up alarm so that he could roll over and go back to sleep. Instead he scrolled through his text messages and found Amanda’s thread. They had never really figured out what the plan for the podcast was going to be, and they were set to record in a matter of hours. 

**Did you ever get a guest lined up for the pod today? We talked about maybe another senator, or someone from the NYPD about the Munoz thing…**

He tossed the phone down on the nightstand and finally threw back the covers, swinging his feet over the edge, resting on cold hardwood floors, scrubbing his scruffy face with his hands, trying to clear the sleep out of his system. 

The shower was scaldingly hot, but Sonny just sighed as he stepped under the spray, he heat soothing aching and weary muscles. He heard his phone buzz, skittering across the countertop and he peeked around the curtain, shaking his hand a bit to dry before he picked it up to read the text he had already expected was from Amanda. 

**I took care of it don’t worry, just get your ass over here.**

Sonny rolled his eyes, setting the phone back down. 

It was nearly thirty minutes later when he finally stepped out of the shower, sluggish and relaxed from the heat of the bathroom, and he paused for a moment in front of his closet. Usually he tried to look sort of presentable, button ups, blazers, suit vests on occasion. But he really wasn’t feeling up to it, and instead just tugged on a comfortable pair of jeans, a little too worn in the knees, and an old St. John hoodie. It was a podcast, not a television show, it wasn’t like their listeners would be able to tell that he had dressed like a bum.

Pocketing his keys and his phone, he ran a hand through his still soaking curls, knowing that he was going to regret not taking the time to blow dry it the moment he stepped into the November chill. Still, he headed for the door anyway, slamming it closed behind him with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Oh Sonny,” he heard a soft voice of surprise and looked up to see his neighbor on the stairs, an elderly woman. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Garfalo,” he pulled a smile. Even in a mood, he couldn’t bring himself to be impolite. 

“Do you have a moment? Do you think you could help me take some boxes to the curb?” She smiled brightly. “I have some homemade zeppoli I can pack up for you for breakfast.” 

Sonny tapped the screen of his watch, checking the time. He’d have to hope there was no line at the cafe, or that Amanda was running later than he was, but he doubted it given her text earlier. “Sure Mrs. Garfalo,” he followed her into the apartment across the hall from his own with a sneeze. He wasn’t sure if his allergies had gotten worse or if it was just the _sheer number_ of cats she had that always made his eyes water and his nose run. 

Three trips down the stairs and a bag full of sugared pastries later, he finally hit the sidewalk with a sigh, ready to catch the train to their office. Sonny had just reached the corner when his phone vibrated in his pocket, another text from Amanda; he scowled. 

**Please don’t come looking like a hobo, we do have company.**

Sonny paused mid step as he read the message, and then glanced down at the threadbare sweatshirt, and the jeans with nearly-forming holes in the knees. There was no way he’d be able to catch the train if he had to change. He navigated away from the message and put in his request for a lyft, his only chance of stopping for coffee before he had to be at the office.

He let out a low growl and turned around, back into his apartment building to ascend the flights of stairs for the fourth time that morning. With a petulant huff he pulled off his hoodie and dropped his jeans, leaving them pooled on the floor. He rustled around his closet for a moment before finally finding a pair of dark wash jeans, selecting a dark purple button up, taking care to roll the sleeves precisely over his elbows before he tucked in the hem. 

Sonny hesitated for a moment before he reached for a vest still hanging in his closet, charcoal grey. Casual enough to sit in a cafe, but presentable enough in case Amanda’s mystery guest was someone whose opinion he actually cared about. He glanced at his watch again. Forty minutes to get there. 

With a stroke that seemed uncharacteristic given the day he’d been having, his phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to the lyft driver waiting for him several stories below. For what felt like the tenth time that day, Sonny pulled on his jacket and headed out the door, climbing into the car with a curt nod. 

Traffic moved with an achingly slow pace, even for a Manhattan mid-morning, so Sonny settled into the seat with a resigned sigh as he pulled his phone out again to pass the time. Over the past month or so, it had become near impossible to keep up with all of the messages and mentions and what not that he and Amanda had been receiving. It was crazy really, to think that he’d spent eight years of near anonymity in the White House, and now that was over they’d found the spotlight.

They finally pulled up to the curb in front of his usual coffee shop, and Sonny muttered a quick thank you before climbing out and stretching his legs. He glanced at his watch. There was no way he was going to be on time anyway, so he ducked into the shop and got in line with a silent groan. Apparently nothing was going to go his way, he tapped his foot impatiently, half a dozen people in line ahead of him, the line creeping at a snail’s pace. 

Sonny shot off a quick text to Amanda, letting her know he was running late, and finally, after what seemed like ages, ordered his coffee, dropping a ten on the counter and leaving the change behind with an off-handed thought that maybe he could buy some good karma. 

“Oh my gosh, are you Sonny?” His head whipped around at the near screech as he waited at the counter for his coffee. “Oh my god I’m obsessed with you?” Before he had a moment to blink, a young woman was crowding his space, her phone in hand, “can we take a picture?” she asked, but didn’t give him a chance to reply and Sonny forced a smile as the shudder clicked. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he added weakly, but she was already rushing off back to her group of friends. 

“Sonny,” the barista called, setting the paper cup on the counter and Sonny breathed a sigh of relief, clutching it desperately in both hands as he took a sip, expecting the warm soothing taste of his latte. Instead he sputtered, the cloyingly sweet taste of white mocha in his mouth. He paused mid-step, and contemplated asking for it to be remade correctly, but he was already running late, so he just sighed and took another step towards the door. 

He’d nearly made it to the door when a body bumped into his back, and the hot paper cup slipped from his grasp, splattering across the floor. He groaned loudly, waving off the frantic apology, and collected napkins to clean the mess up off the floor. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, he finally made it out of the coffee shop, replacement cup in hand and far later than he had intended. He resisted the urge to run, knowing he didn’t want to show up at the studio out of breath and sweating. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled, still not his order. 

Amanda was waiting on the street outside the building that housed their little office and recording studio, arms crossed over her chest, chin tucked into the collar of her jacket, shivering against the cold. “You’re late.” She scowled, “like really late.”

“Like I’ve never been sitting around waiting for you to finally get your ass somewhere,” Sonny muttered out bitterly, hand reaching for the door. 

“Well okay then, what crawled up your ass this morning?” Amanda took a step back, wide eyed. Sonny wasn’t always a morning person, but he was still usually cheery enough by the time he reached the office. And even then they’d spent plenty of all nighters together at the White House without that sort of animosity. 

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “I’ve had a spectacularly shitty morning,” he softened for a moment, it wasn’t Amanda’s fault, and he knew that, hadn’t meant to lash out at her. 

“Right well, pull yourself together, it’s a political _comedy_ show and you don’t want to make an ass out of yourself in front of our guest, anyway,” she added, ushering him into the building with a little shove.

“Who’s our guest you never told me?” Sonny asked over his shoulder as she pushed him towards the elevator. 

Amanda didn’t respond, just stepped into the elevator behind Sonny, a smirk pulling at her lips, and she reached for the panel, selecting the fourth floor, nudging him with her shoulder. Sonny accepted the silence suspiciously, and stepped back off the elevator as the doors opened. They walked down the hall side by side, falling into easy step despite their height difference until Amanda reached for the door to their office. She paused for a moment and looked up at Sonny with a smirk. 

“Happy birthday, by the way,” she added before pulling it open, gesturing for Sonny to step inside. 

“Don’t remind me,” Sonny muttered, but the words hung around on his tongue and his eyes widened as he stepped through the door into the recording room, their guest already seated at the microphone, adjusting a dark blue spotted tie. Sonny’s lips parted slightly, and he glanced from Amanda, to the man sitting at the table and back again. 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Carisi?” the man raised an eyebrow, elbows resting casually on the table. 

Sonny’s face flushed bright red, “no, no, please, call me Sonny, the show’s named after me, after all,” he tried to recover, and Amanda just rolled her eyes, closing the door of the recording room and taking her seat. 

“We should get started,” she announced with a soft grin, watching Sonny stumble to sit in his own chair, shooting a glare her way. She had expected this exact sort of reaction, knew that Sonny had to be silently fuming that she hadn’t given him time to prepare any questions, but it didn’t matter anyway, he knew the man’s whole resume anyway. 

She held up her hand for the countdown, leaning over to the control panel to select the record button. “Good morning and welcome to The Sonday Report, where we talk a lot and try to teach you a few things. I’m Amanda Rollins, and today is an extra special edition of the pod. As you all may or may not know, its Sonny’s fiftieth birthday today,” she grinned. 

“Excuse you,” Sonny cut in indignantly. 

“Sorry, fortieth-”

“Try again.”

“Thirty-sixth,” Amanda settled on with a resigned sigh, “he’s thirty-six today, so to celebrate, I managed to secure an extra special guest for the day so I don’t actually have to spend any money on a present for him-” 

Sonny snorted, “when have you ever?”

“So today we’ll be speaking with none other than Senator Rafael Barba,” she continued, ignoring his comment with a wide grin.

Sonny glanced over at the man sitting with his hands folded on the desk, smirk playing across his lips as he caught Sonny’s eye. Sonny ducked his head, cheeks burning, “Thank you so much for joining us today, we know you must be very busy down in Washington.” 

Rafael chuckled lightly, relaxing back into his chair, “thank you for having me, and of course, happy birthday,” his lips curled into a grin as Sonny shifted uncomfortably. 

“Thank you,” Sonny nodded. “So let’s just jump right into things?” He glanced over at Amanda for confirmation but she just gave him a nod of unspoken encouragement, and Sonny shrank slightly in his chair. They’d spent enough time together over the years, he knew a set up when he saw one, she was going to take a backseat to the conversation. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Rafael replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. 

“Right,” Sonny tripped over his words, flush brightening over the bridge of his nose, “you’ve been one of the loudest voices in the current fight to legislate protections for Dreamers. We’ve seen some of the twitter campaign you started last week, can you tell us a little about what you’re hoping to accomplish and why this particular fight is so important to you?”

Rafael leaned forward, pausing a moment to think, “sure, so a little about the campaign, essentially asking immigrants and first generation Americans to make little videos to talk about their experiences here, so I made one, explaining my own experiences, and my staff and I have been watching every single one that has been sent to us, and we’ve been trying to get my fellow senators to watch them as well, to sort of help humanize the issues.”

“What do you mean by humanize?” Amanda asked, settling her elbows on the desk. 

Rafael nodded, “right, I mean that sitting around Capitol Hill in our cushy offices, I think it’s easy for people to lose perspective, to forget that Dreamers aren’t a pawn to be moved around for political gain, but real people who stand to lose everything. These are people, children, who came here under no choice of their own…” 

He trailed off for a moment, glancing over to Sonny before he continued, “many of my fellow senators have law backgrounds, I do as well. In law school you learn about legal theory, about why the law exists and what the point of repercussion is. The overwhelming majority of people believe that to justify punishment, you have to have a guilty act, or actus reus. But how can we say that children who had no say in the matter are guilty?”

Sonny cocked his head, leaning against the desk to look at Rafael, hanging onto each word, “I didn’t go to law school, of course, but it was my understanding that courts have ruled that deportation isn’t actually punishment, correct?” 

Rafael nodded, “they have. But I think when you consider the context, it seems impossible to argue that its not punishment. These children have no memories of the lands we’d be sending them back to, often times they have no ties, no family members or relatives they know, some don’t even know the language.”

Amanda nodded in understanding, “I can’t even begin to imagine being sent to a country that was essentially foreign to me with nothing.” 

“Of course this issue is particularly near and dear to my heart as a first generation American myself. My mother came to this country alone when she was ten years old, this was back in 1961 during Operation Peter Pan, when nearly 14,000 Cuban youths were sent unaccompanied to America to flee the Castro regime. My grandmother made it to America six years later after her husband, my grandfather was killed by the government. She was able to declare refugee status and stay legally, but that was only because we had measures in place to take care of people. If my mother, or my grandmother had been deported, they likely would have met the same fate as my grandfather,” his voice trailed off, and he ducked his head. 

“That must have been incredibly difficult for your mother,” Sonny offered gently, “coming to a new country alone at only ten years old, she must be a strong woman.” 

Rafael smiled fondly, “she is, she’s a force of nature, and a hundred percent responsible for my own success. She’s the principal of a charter school in the Bronx and I think I’ll have to force her to retire eventually because she’s not going to do it willingly. When I see people like her, and the people I grew up around, all immigrants themselves, I find it so hard to understand where the myth of the lazy immigrant comes from.” 

Sonny nodded, “my grandparents were immigrants as well, though there’s much less struggle to their story, they came over from Italy. But they were the hardest working people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. And I worked with President Obama for eight years,” he chuckled lightly. 

A grin tugged at the corner of Rafael’s mouth, and Sonny couldn’t help the warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that his joke had elicited at least that much of a response from the notoriously serious man. 

“So,” Amanda cut in with a grin, “I have to ask. Mr. Barba, you and Senator Calhoun are often compared to Justice Ginsburg and the late Justice Scalia given your friendship despite pretty significant differences in politics, what do you think of that comparison?

Rafael let out a short laugh, eyes crinkled in amusement, “well, I’d have to say we didn’t bond over a mutual affection for the Opera.” 

“So what did you two bond over then?” Amanda asked curiously.

“We’re old friends, back from our days at Harvard Law, we bonded over unbridled competition,” Rafael laughed, reclining in his chair. 

“The gossip on twitter says that you and Senator Calhoun get at each other’s throats pretty frequently down on Capitol Hill, where does that bit of animosity come from?” Sonny asked with a bright-eyed smile. 

“Well, I always win,” Rafael replied matter of factly before a grin played across his face. “No but, whomever is in charge of assigning offices to senators made a grave mistake, because Rita’s office is next door to mine and it’s hell on earth.” 

“I can sympathize,” Amanda reached out a hand, laying it on the table in front of him with an overly empathetic tone before grinning at Sonny. “I know what it’s like to have a nightmare as as a coworker.”

“Excuse you,” Sonny replied indignantly, “aren’t you supposed to be nice to me on my birthday?”

Amanda just waved him off, “back to actual politics and what not, Senator Barba, you’ve also been a pretty outspoken advocate for firearm regulations which is obviously a pretty hot topic all of the time, but especially lately, can you speak on that a bit?”

Rafael nodded, “we’re going with the heavy hitting content today,” he chuckled. “I’m very much for common sense gun restrictions, and I’ve been active in trying to push through legislation that puts requirements like background checks and barriers for people with prior convictions or mental health issues into law. It’s incredible to me that in a nation that seeks to be so progressive and democratic, we still have such a severe epidemic of gun violence.” 

Sonny nodded in agreement, “absolutely. We’re obviously in agreement, I personally drafted many of the former president’s speeches on the subject, after some of the tragedies we faced during his two terms. I don’t mean to pry, so you can tell us to shut up at any point,” he joked lightly, “but you’ve spoken at length about growing up in the Bronx, and any native New Yorker like myself-”

Rafael let out a short laugh, “if you count Staten Island as New York,” he quipped, and Sonny’s eyes widened like a deer in the headlights before he continued. 

“How could you tell?” Sonny laughed. 

“Like your accent isn’t a dead give away,” Rafael rolled his eyes. 

“What accent?” Sonny teased, “but no, I mean the Bronx especially twenty, thirty years ago had quite the reputation for gun violence, still does to some extent. Do you think that informed your perspective on gun control?”

Rafael paused again, the teasing grin disappearing from his face. “I haven’t spoken about this at length, but yes. It absolutely did. I was ten years old when my younger sister was killed in what the police assumed was a gang related shooting, stray bullet. We were at the park, she was only five. I’ve never been a fan of guns, but I cannot deny that the experience undeniably colored my perspective.” 

“I-I’m so sorry,” Sonny stumbled. He hadn’t expected that sort of admission from the man, a personal story maybe, but certainly not that. 

“Thank you, it was a difficult time for my family. Unfortunately it is something that happens far too often. I read an article only yesterday about a little boy killed in a drive by shooting in Manhattan. This is exactly why we need more regulation when it comes to firearms.”  
“I read about that,” Amanda nodded. “I have a daughter myself, she’s just barely two, I can’t even imagine what I would do if something happened to her.” 

Rafael nodded, face somber. 

“I think we have time for just one last question,” Sonny swiveled in his chair to look from Amanda to Rafael. “And I’m sure it’s the one you were expecting, but social media has been very keen on discussing your friendship with former New York Mayoral candidate Alex Muñoz who was recently indicted on charges of sexual misconduct with a minor and child pornography. Do you care to comment?” 

Rafael nodded slowly, “Alex and I were friends from primary school, and we tried to stay close over the years. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we haven’t been in close contact for quite some time now. I think if anything, this goes to show how much politics can change a person. I’d like to think the kid I grew up with in El Barrio would never do something so despicable and horrifying as what Alex is charged with, but he’s not the same person I knew back then.” 

“Thank you,” Sonny drummed his fingers against the table. “We’re about out of time, so I’d like to thank you again for taking time out of your busy schedule to sit down and talk with us,” he smiled brightly, looking up to meet Rafael’s eye. “I’m sure you don’t have the time to listen to our podcast, but I uh, actually talk about you a lot, I really admire you, and all of the work you’ve done for this country.” 

A feral smirk curled at the corners of Rafael’s mouth, “actually, I listen to your podcast on my morning commute to the office pretty regularly,” Sonny’s face flushed bright red, “I’m not sure if admiration is the word you’re looking for, I’m pretty sure you’ve mentioned how pretty my eyes are at least forty-five times.” 

Sonny thought it was impossible, but his face darkened even more, and he let out an uncomfortably embarrassed laugh, “right, I uh. Thank you again for being on our show, and keep on fighting like hell in the Senate,” he spun around in the chair reaching to end the recording. 

His eyes were trained on Amanda as she rose from her chair, slipping out of the recording room without a word, glaring at the back of her head before he was forced to turn back to Rafael, still sitting in his chair, a self satisfied smirk plastered across his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” he reached up, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “sorry about the weird stuff I’ve said about you on the podcast, it’s just sort of this running joke at this point, but I don’t just think you’re hot, you know, like you’re incredibly intelligent and you’ve done so much as a senator, and you’re one of the youngest senate minority leaders in history…” he babbled on, flushing an even deeper red. 

Rafael’s smirk just widened as Sonny continued on, “as much as I’d love to sit here and listen to you sing my praises, I’ve only had coffee this morning, and I’ve heard it’s your birthday, so why don’t you continue telling me how great I am over lunch?”

Sonny’s eyes just widened, impossibly so, bright crystal blue, and his lips parted for a moment. Of all the possible ways his birthday could have gone, this particular situation hadn’t crossed his mind even in a dream. “I-” he stuttered, “yeah, of course, absolutely.” 

Rafael rose from his chair, the smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth, “good, let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is a bonus chapter, outside of my usual Sunday schedule. Originally I didn't have Sonny and Rafael's lunch explicitly in the story, but so many people mentioned that they were looking forward to it and I didn't want to disappoint. There will still be a new chapter on Sunday as usual. Hope you all like this in the meantime!

Sonny turned the collar of his jacket up against the wind as he stood on the sidewalk outside his office building, shoulder bumping casually against the man next to him. He wrote for a living, speeches for powerful people, and talked now, constantly, and yet for the life of him, he couldn’t think of something to say to the man at his side as they waited for a cab. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to figure out how he’d ended up there. The day had started of worse than usual, about as bad as an ordinary day could get at least, and yet somehow he’d ended up across the table from his idol, crush, whatever he was. 

And said crush had not just teased him but asked him out to lunch. 

Sonny glanced over at Rafael again, thanking the wind as an excuse for his flushed cheeks. “Do you have a preference for where to go? It’s your birthday after all,” Rafael grinned as their ride pulled up to the curb, and the Senator pulled the car door open for him. 

Sonny ducked into the car, awkward and gangly limbs, settling in the far seat as Rafael climbed in effortlessly next to him. “Oh, uh, no I guess not. Where’s your favorite place in the city? Since you don’t get to spend time here much.” 

Rafael chuckled softly before leaning forward to give instructions to the driver before he settled back into the seat, glancing over at Sonny. “Hope you’ve got time for a bit of a hike, we’re going to the Bronx.” 

“Didn’t fancy you the hiking type, Senator,” Sonny bit back with a grin, teasing and humor was an easy cover for his nerves, the way his palms were sweating and his stomach was churning. “Nah, I’ve got the time. I’m self employed after all.”

“So that’s what they’re calling it now, when you get fired from the White House,” Rafael quipped back easily pulling a vibrating phone out of his pocket. 

“Excuse you, I wasn’t fired, it was the changing of the guard,” Sonny joked lightly, watching the man type a quick reply before looking back at him. 

“Lucky for you, I don’t think I could be seen eating lunch with a man responsible for the current president’s speeches,” Rafael rolled his eyes, but his lip was pulled back in a smirk, “do you like Cuban food? I figured we could go to this little place in my old neighborhood, best Cuban food in the city, better than my Mami’s but don’t tell her that.” 

Sonny laughed, adjusting his vest, “are you going to think less of me if I admit I don’t think I’ve ever had Cuban food?” It was a joke, really, but he couldn’t help the pang of nervousness in his stomach. Not that he really thought that his inexperience with Cuban food was going to be a cardinal sin, but that he’d say something wrong, come across more like the dopy social media personality and less like the experienced presidential speech writer he actually was. 

“Ah probrecito rubito,” Rafael teased, “little gringo from Staten Island’s never had Cuban food, color me surprised,” Sonny’s face flushed despite the lighthearted tone in his voice. “Prepare to have your mind blown and palate permanently scarred, nothing will ever taste as good again.” 

Sonny had been worried, that their conversation would feel forced, that he’d run out of things to say (though certainly no one else in his life would have the same concern), that he’d find a way to put his foot in his mouth, but things settled easily between them as they crossed the tri-borough bridge into the Bronx. Sonny turned his head, letting his eyes scan the street. He’d never spent much time in the Bronx, it was like a foreign world despite its proximity to his home, and he couldn’t help but wonder how different it had looked, when little Rafael Barba had been running around Jerome Avenue. 

“Here’s good,” Rafael leaned forward to instruct the driver, and they pulled over to the curb in front of a small row of storefronts, El Coquito hand painted on one of the windows, and Rafael paid the driver before climbing out first, closing the door behind Sonny. “Don’t judge it by appearances, I promise it’s better than it looks.” 

Sonny grinned, “I’m Italian, I know better than to judge food by the restaurant, you should see my favorite bakery in Manhattan,” he replied lightly, following Rafael into the restaurant, settling across from him in a booth in the back corner. 

They were the only patrons, though it was a little late for lunch, a little early for dinner. An elderly woman bustled over to them with glasses of water and a couple plastic covered menu. “Ah Rafael,” she greeted warmly with a thick accent, leaning in to drop a kiss on his cheek, returned in kind, “it’s been too long since you’ve visited me Papito.” 

Rafael smiled at her, eyes bright green and sparkling, “Señora, you know I come everytime I’m in the city, if I could live here and let you feed me everyday I would, but duty calls.” Sonny watched the exchange with interest, he knew that Rafael was charming, that he had to be to win over constituents, but it was different to see him turn on the charm up close, and he could feel a warmth spreading in his stomach. 

“Ah yes, our little Papito, saving the world,” she grinned at him, “what can I get for you and your amiguito?” She glanced over at Sonny, giving him an appraising look, and Sonny sat up a little straighter, pulled his shoulders back under her discerning gaze. 

“Ahh, Señora, could we get two cafés to start? Sonny here has never had the pleasure of sampling Cuban cuisine and needs a moment with the menu.” She nodded, giving Rafael an affirming pat on his cheek before setting the menus on the table and walking back into the kitchen. Rafael turned back to Sonny, holding one of the plastic menus out to him. 

“I’m overwhelmed,” Sonny admitted with a teasing sigh, looking up from the menu after scanning it quickly. “This menu’s in Spanish and while I will admit to maybe twelve years of formal study, I never quite mastered the Spanish language. What do you recommend?” 

Rafael clearly expected as much, Sonny could tell with the self-satisfied smirk on his face, “you can’t go wrong with ropa vieja, or any of it really. Why don’t I order a few dishes and we can share, so you can sample a few things?” 

The woman returned with their coffees only a few moments later, and Sonny was baffled by how quickly their food arrived after they ordered, like she had anticipated what they were going to order and started it before Rafael had relayed in his perfectly accented Spanish. Sonny had seen plenty of campaign videos, and interviews with the Senator, but he’d never caught one where he spoke Spanish, and he couldn’t deny, even to himself, the subtly attractive quality of the way the words formed in his mouth. 

“I really don’t see why you think it wouldn’t work,” Sonny commented after swallowing a mouthful of a food who’s name he couldn’t pronounce, but was, true to Rafael’s praise, one of the best things he’d ever tasted. “You know the Republicans wouldn’t hesitate to lord the threat of a shutdown over Democrats, they held a Supreme Court seat hostage for nearly a year after all…” 

Rafael shook his head as he chewed, moving his fork through the pile of rice and beans and meat in front of him, “no that’s exactly the point though. I’d love to convince the other Dems to vote against the temporary funding bill, but we all know that Republicans won’t budge. They don’t care. You can’t hold hostage someone who’s willing to blow shit up themselves.”

Sonny set his fork down and took a sip of water before reaching for another tostone, “you’re saying you think they’d just let the shutdown happen, instead of giving in and passing the Dream Act?” He raised his eyebrow with the warmth of the realization that his nerves had faded away into an easy repertoire between them. Rafael was smart, Sonny had known that for years, but he was articulate, quick on his feet, and Sonny couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so stimulated by a conversation.

“Absolutely. Not all of them, but enough of them, the Republicans have become kamikaze pilots, they’d rather see the world crash and burn around them than negotiate with us. And I want to,” Rafael added, leaning back in his seat, setting his fork down, “I want to push, I want this bill passed, but I have to think about the bigger picture. A government shutdown doesn’t just mean that a massive number of employees are furloughed, it means that the administration of important government programs would be affected.”

Sonny frowned, reaching for yet another tostone, “I mean, major programs like the VA and Social Security and Medicare aren’t subject to Congressional appropriation though, so it’s not like people wouldn’t be getting their benefits,” he gestured animatedly. 

“Their benefits sure, but the administration of those benefits isn’t given the same level of weight. Most of the programs will have their staff cut by half. They’re already overtaxed systems, there’s no way that they’d be able to maintain smooth operation with half the number of people,” Rafael replied easily, hand dropping to his stomach with a comfortable pat. 

“Alright, I guess I see your point,” Sonny relented, “how do you expect to get anything done at all if you can’t negotiate with the GOP?” He set down the tostone, an admission of defeat because he was absolutely stuffed, stomach straining against the buttons of his vest. 

Rafael paused as the elderly woman returned with an offer for dessert and the check. He politely declined after a shake of the head from Sonny and offered Señora a few bills. “You don’t have to-” Sonny had tried to reach for his wallet, but Rafael waved him off. 

“It’s your birthday. Gracias Señora, I’ll be sure to be back soon,” he added before turning back to Sonny again. “There’s not much we can do, except keep up the campaigns and hope the midterm elections even the playing field,” he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “So, Sonny, It’s nearly four o’clock, what else do you have planned for your birthday, anything fun?” 

The heat of a blush blossomed over the bridge of Sonny’s nose, “uh not much, actually. Amanda offered to have me for dinner, but that usually means cooking for her, because she’s not capable of cooking without poisoning people. My parents are on a cruise in the Mediterranean, my sisters are all busy, and most of my friends are still in DC,” he shrugged. “I was really just planning on spending the night at home.” 

Rafael looked scandalized. 

“That’s unacceptable,” he shook his head, standing up from the booth to pull on his black pea coat. “Let’s do something. What do you want to do?” 

Sonny flushed even brighter, “oh I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than keep a pitiful thirty-six year old company on his birthday,” he laughed, trying to make light of it as he stood up as well, stretching his long legs. 

A shrug of his shoulders, a shake of his head, “I’ve got the rest of the day free, what do you want to do?” Rafael repeated over his shoulder as he headed towards the door, holding it open for Sonny, a burst of cold air hitting them both. 

“I have no idea,” Sonny shrugged as they stepped outside, “I’m up for anything.” 

Rafael pulled a face, rolling his eyes, “you’ve got an opinion about everything else. What’s something you’ve wanted to do but haven’t gotten around to?” He pushed a bit, their elbows bumping against each other as they stood on the street trying to decide. 

“Well, I’ve never been to the Met…” Sonny trailed off, and a grin spread across Rafael’s face as he reached for his phone, calling for a cab. 

* * *

“I’m not sure I get this,” Sonny admitted in a hushed whisper as he stood, shoulder to shoulder with Rafael in front of a darkly colored painting, a mess of people all falling over each other. 

Rafael chucked, “not really a renaissance man, are you,” he teased, “its a depiction of the Senators of Greece.” 

Sonny turned his head to look at Rafael, “how’d you know that?” 

Rafael rolled his eyes with an amused smile, “I read the plaque,” he motioned to the little description next to the painting. “Have you ever been to _any_ museums?” he asked with just a hint of teasing incredulity. 

“I mean, mostly science museums really,” Sonny shrugged, “and history. I liked the Smithsonian when I was living in DC, I’ve never really done the whole art museum thing, I wanted to see what it was all about. Kinda boring,” he admitted with a grin. 

Rafael rolled his eyes yet again and nudged Sonny towards the next painting, “my parents used to drag my sister and me to all sorts of museums,” he admitted in a whisper, “she thought it was boring too, I had to keep her entertained with made up stories about the paintings so she wouldn’t whine the whole time.” 

Sonny laughed, a little too loud, drawing the attention of patrons nearby, and he whispered an apology before turning back to Rafael, “that sounds like something one of my sisters would do,” he grinned, “you should tell me stories too.” He cursed inwardly at the little flutter in his chest, the churn of his stomach. Rafael Barba was notorious as a senator, loud and outspoken, brash, didn’t pull punches, and Sonny loved that, the champion for justice and righteousness, but he liked this too, the soft compassionate admissions. 

“Ay dios mio,” Rafael muttered under his breath, reevaluating his choice of words, “you don’t want me to tell you stupid made up stories,” he glanced up at Sonny, green eyes wide, piercing but somehow still inviting. 

“Of course I do,” Sonny beamed, there was no way he was going to let Rafael wiggle out of it now, “tell me about this one, what kind of story would you tell your sister about this one?” He pointed to the painting in front of them, a rich oil portrait of a chubby child on a rocking horse, a bright eyed, long haired dog sitting next to it.

Rafael sighed, “really?” An obvious delaying tactic, Sonny wasn’t fooled. 

“Come on, it’s my birthday, tell me a story.”

The senator groaned, “I’d probably tell her a story about the potato prince, and how he wasn’t allowed to play outside because the queen didn’t want her darling potato dirty so his only friend was the dog, but really the dog didn’t like him either because he was an entitled little brat, so the dog tried to conspire with the horse to run away, not realizing that the horse was made of wood,” Rafael glanced back over at Sonny, waiting for a reaction. 

Sonny couldn’t help himself, just burst out laughing, drawing stares and a few shushes from annoyed patrons. Rafael elbowed his side, “shh, Elena knew the rules, you can’t be too loud or the game stops,” he admonished. 

Sonny tried to gather himself back together, but couldn’t keep the amused smile off his face, “sorry, sorry, I’ll be quiet,” he apologized quickly, moving on to the next painting on the wall, glancing to Rafael who followed at his side. “Do this one,” Sonny nodded to the painting, a pretty impressionist piece, a woman in a field of sunflowers, straw hat and basket at her arms.

“This one?” Rafael turned to study the piece in front of him, “she’s a little rebel. Her mother wanted her to go to med school and be a doctor but she said fuck it, I’m going to sell flowers.” Sonny wasn’t sure if it was the story, or Rafael’s blunt delivery, but he couldn’t help but laugh again, more quietly, and Rafael turned again, laughing at him. 

“Do the next one,” Sonny beamed, laughter still evident in his eyes as he tugged Rafael to the next painting, and then another, and the next, dissolving into laughter at each story, tears welling in his eyes as they both attempted to stifle downright snickering.

“Excuse me,” a security guard approached as Sonny reached up, brushing moisture away from his eyes. “You have to keep it down or I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the man warned, voice deep, and stern, which only encouraged the laughter bubbling up in Sonny’s chest. 

“We were actually just leaving,” Rafael replied easily, his hand falling to Sonny’s arm, gripping him just above the elbow as he guided him away from the guard and back to the entrance, but the moment they were over the threshold they both dissolved into laughter anyway.  

“Did we just get kicked out of the Met?” Sonny asked as he calmed back down, the cold winds at their necks a sobering force. 

“We were about to be,” Rafael nodded, grin still on his face, “how’s that for a birthday adventure?”   
Sonny glanced at his wrist to check the time. They’d passed nearly three hours in the museum, though he knew that people could spend days in the Metropolitan Museum without ever seeing everything. Between that and their drive back from the Bronx, it was nearly eight, sun long set on the horizon and his stomach was rumbling. 

“It’s definitely been my most exciting birthday in a while,” Sonny replied quickly. 

“In a while, huh, must have had some crazy college years then,” Rafael teased lightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shivering a bit in the cold. 

“Nah I was more so thinking about my eighth birthday, when my buddies and I got in trouble with the cops for using marshmallow shooters at passing cars on the corner of Arden Ave and I got dropped off at my house by this beat cop who called me a pissant and my mom beat my ass with a wooden spoon,” Sonny grinned, taking a step down the street, and Rafael fell into step beside him. 

“Marshmallow shooters, huh,” Rafael remarked with an impressed nod of consideration. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.”

Sonny could swear he could feel the tension, palpable between them, a sort of spell that he didn’t want to break, the night that he didn’t want to end, “my favorite Italian restaurant is just down the street,” he commented, not really a question but the implication was clear enough. 

A smile spread across Rafael’s face, “let’s go then.”

* * *

Sonny couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed someone’s company so much, but even through their walk to the restaurant, and all through dinner the conversation never seemed to lull long, and when it did, the silence between them was comfortable. They’d covered their educations, war stories and scandalous tales from college, and law school, Rafael offered up near unbelievable accounts of what Rita Calhoun had been like back in the day, and then they’d moved on to families. To some extent, the softened versions, and Rafael told stories about playing dominoes with his Abuelita, and Sonny explained his summers on the family farm, picking tomatoes and playing in the creek. 

“I’m stuffed,” Rafael groaned, his hand on his stomach yet again, “Cuban and Italian food in one day was perhaps an overindulgence,” he shifted in his seat, and Sonny watched him carefully but echoed the sentiment. “I think I need to burn some of this off. I know its cold, but would you maybe want to take a walk with me?” 

Sonny’s face flushed lightly, but he nodded, moving to stand up. 

“Hold on, let me go settle the check,” Rafael stood up, disappearing from view before Sonny had a chance to protest. When he returned moments later, he had two paper cups of coffee and a pastry box tied with string, and a soft smile on his face. 

“What’s all this?” Sonny asked with a raised eyebrow, accepting one of the paper cups as he stood up from the table.

“I’ve been told Italians always end their meals with espresso and dessert, couldn’t skimp on your birthday,” Rafael replied teasingly, looping his fingers through the string on the box as he ushered Sonny out the door. 

They fell into an easy pace side by side, shoulders and elbows nudging occasionally as they approached the park, silence settling over them as they sipped their coffees. The wind had died down, but with the sun having long since settled over the horizon, the air had gotten a bit colder, and Sonny could feel the pink rising on his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” his soft voice broke through the silence, and Rafael turned to look up at him. “For everything. Really, I’ve never thought birthdays were that important, but it was nice not to have to spend it alone.”

Rafael chuckled lightly, “good to know I meet the minimal bar of better than alone.” 

Sonny rolled his eyes, “that’s not what I meant. We’ve only just met today, it means a lot that you’d go through all this trouble just for me.” 

“Just today,” Rafael echoed. “Seems like longer though.” 

Sonny wasn’t sure what to say to that, just let it linger in the air between them, and he paused as Rafael settled on a park bench, setting his coffee next to him. Sonny took the other side, both hands still grasped around the paper cup for warmth. 

“I thought cannoli was a safe bet for an Italian from Staten Island,” Rafael commented as cold fingers pried the string off the box, opening it up before he reached into a pocket pulling out a lighter. 

Sonny craned his neck over to look in the box, and let out a laugh when his eyes came to rest on the singular birthday candle sticking out of one of the cannoli. Rafael just grinned, lighting the candle before picking it up, holding it out to Sonny. 

“Not a cake, but you’ve got to be able to make a birthday wish at least,” he joked, “I’m not going to sing for you though.” 

Sonny just chucked, eyes bright ice blue, cheeks flushed from the cold, and absolutely beaming as he paused for a moment before blowing out the candle. He reached out, like he was going to take the cannoli from Rafael’s hand, but his long fingers curled around the Senator’s wrist instead, pulling him in a little closer, slowly. He could hear the soft hitch of breath, and glanced up at those piercing green eyes that had caught his attention so many years ago. 

He leaned in closer, and pressed a kiss to Rafael’s lips, soft and sweet, lingering against his skin before he pulled away again, face flushed so brightly there was no way he could blame it on the wind. And Rafael’s face just settled into a soft smile, returning his attention to the cannoli, they ate in silence. 

“I have to get back,” Rafael explained reluctantly as he checked his watch. “I’m taking the red eye back to DC,” they both stood slowly from the bench, lingering. 

Sonny wanted to tell him to stay, wanted to ask him not to go, the churning anxiety in his gut reminding him that this had only been a moment, that the spell that had seemingly descended over them could be broken at any second. But he would never ask that of Rafael, and instead he just nodded. 

Rafael reached for the lapels of Sonny’s jacket, pulling him in again for a kiss, still just as sweet, the taste of powdered sugar and sweet ricotta on his lips but it was deeper, just a little bit more urgent, and he was a little flustered as he pulled away. “I’ll call you?”

Sonny just nodded before they went their separate ways.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Hope you all enjoy this Sunday update!

Sonny’s phone vibrated a staccato rhythm against the lacquered wooden table top. He looked up the book he had spread out in front of him, peering over the thick black rim of reading glasses. It was a Monday afternoon, December snow falling gently outside the coffee shop windows as he relaxed in his usual back corner. It was his day off, Mondays always were. Amanda got to spend the day entertaining Jesse, walking Frannie in the park. Sonny, though, had no such commitments. 

Instead he got to indulge himself in overly sweetened coffee because the barista seemed to have a vendetta against him, and several chapters of a novel he’d been meaning to finish for weeks. And texts from Rafael, too. Sonny dog eared the page he was on and closed the book in front of him before reaching for his phone. 

A soft smile spread across his face as his eyes scanned the message, a desperate plea for help, or a cry for attention, he wasn’t sure which it was. Maybe a little of both. 

**Rita has a death wish. If she comes into my office without knocking one more time, I will not be held responsible for my actions.**

Sonny laughed lightly before leaning back in his chair, both hands settling on his phone as he contemplated a reply, funny but not trying too hard, interested, but not too interested. Sonny felt like he was on unstable footing. Like the rocky ledge he’d settled onto with Rafael could give way to sand and grit at any moment. 

**I didn’t go to law school, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how culpability works. Unless you’re claiming she’s driving you to insanity.**

It had been nearly a month, twenty two days to be exact, since his birthday. Since he had recorded a podcast with Rafael Barba, since they had gone to lunch, gone to the Met, gone to dinner, shared cannoli, and a windswept kiss. Twenty two days since they had parted ways, Rafael returning to Washington, and Sonny had returned to his life, as ordinary and standard as it had always been. 

Except the texts. 

And the phone calls. 

Except the blooming warmth and anxiety that had settled into his stomach and made a home there. Sonny wasn’t sure what it was. He had expected nothing from the senator, it had been a brief moment, forbidden tryst, an instant of weakness. If Rafael had decided to never mention it again, Sonny would have been fine treasuring that fleeting memory. It was crazy to think that Rafael might ever want something more from him. 

But then the wheels of Rafael’s plane had touched down in the capital, and Sonny’s phone had come alive with life. They’d been in constant communication, from good morning texts, to mid-afternoon calls to complain about work, late night policy debates on facetime. Sonny wasn’t sure what to think. 

The vibrating of his phone pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced back down at the screen, a call, not a text. He hesitated, the Senate was in session, or supposed to be at least, he wasn’t sure what Rafael could possibly think was so important to call him. He answered anyway. 

“Hey, Senator, aren’t you supposed to be filibustering or something right now?” Sonny teased lightly, tracing his fingers over the cover of the book sitting in front of him, trying to bite back the cloying smile on his face. 

A bright laugh echoed through the phone, and Sonny’s smile grew just a little wider, “even politicians are allowed to take a break for lunch, even if most people assume we thrive on lies, misdirection and despair.” 

Sonny could hear the eye roll over the phone, from a thousand miles away. “I don’t know if people actually think that, sounds like the sort of thing you’d complain about Rita,” he replied with a mock seriousness. “Is she finally leaving you alone?” He added teasingly. 

Rafael scoffed into the phone, “no, she’s currently sitting across from me. At my desk. With her feet. On my desk,” he punctuated disdainfully. “But she bought me lunch so I’ve been told I have to let her stay.” 

Sonny could imagine the glare Rafael was shooting across the desk at her, could hear a muffled exchange between the two of them as Rafael pulled he phone away from his face. “I think she just clings to me because she doesn’t have any other friends,” the senator muttered. 

Sonny laughed lightly, knew from the past month or so, from Rita’s interview, from Rafael’s that all of the animosity was a side dish to genuine friendship, that as much as Rafael complained about her, ribbed her, he didn’t actually mind. “Was there any particular reason for the call, or did you just not want to be alone with her?” 

Rafael paused, and Sonny wondered if he was shaking his head before realizing that Sonny couldn’t see him, “no, it’s just going to be a late night here. Rita’s friends are threatening to hold us hostage until we pass this ridiculous education bill…” he stage whispered, “which we’re not going to do.” Sonny was sure he could hear Rita laughing in the background. “Just figured I’d check in, you’ve got the day off right? How’s the book going?”

Sonny chuckled, glancing back at the book, flipping open the front cover to trace his index finger over the ink inscribed on the title page. _Since you didn’t get a real present. x Rafael._

“Which book? The one I’m supposed to be writing or the one I’m supposed to be reading?” he joked, reaching for his cup of overly sweetened coffee, sipping slowly. Another eye roll, he was sure of that much. 

“You keep saying you’re going to write a book, and yet not once have you ever mentioned actually writing any of it, I think it’s safe to assume that I mean the book I gave you, especially since you sent me a picture of it with your coffee two hours ago,” Rafael remarked dryly. 

“I’m working on it, I’d still be reading if this Senator from New York didn’t keep interrupting me,” Sonny quipped lightly. 

Rafael let out a short laugh, “alright, alright, I’ll leave you be. Calhoun’s insisting that I’m running out of time to eat anyway. Enjoy your day off, Sonny.” 

Sonny was beaming as he said his goodbyes, setting the phone back down on the table. It was Rafael, who had been pushing. It was Rafael who texted first, Rafael who said good morning, Rafael who called first, who facetimed. Sonny wasn’t sure where they stood, but he was more than content to follow his lead.

* * *

Sonny winced as a newspaper made contact with the back of his head, “what the hell?” He spun around in the chair at his desk, looking up at Amanda hovering over him. 

“I’ve been talking at you for five minutes, you weren’t even paying attention to me,” she scowled before dropping back into the chair behind her own desk across the room. “We’re recording the next podcast as soon as our guest gets here, have you gone over the notes I gave you this morning?”

Sonny glanced back down at his desk and rifled through a stack of files before pulling one from the pile. “Yeah, about Cabot? She's the prosecutor handing the Muñoz case,” he nodded flipping open the file. They'd been insanely busy trying to build their brand, and were in the process of developing a second podcast hosted by the former policy advisor they had worked with in the White House, filing the necessary paperwork to trademark, to incorporate. 

“Yeah we knew that when we invited her, Sonny, did you actually read through the notes or have you been too busy flirting with your boyfriend,” she remarked dryly. As if on cue, Sonny’s phone buzzed against the desktop, drawing both of their attention. She shot him a pointed look as if to say ‘I told you so.’

Sonny scowled, “he's not my boyfriend.” He knew he sounded defensive, but it was the truth. Or at least he thought it was. They certainly hadn't had a discussion one way or the other. Their conversations, while flirty, had never extended beyond talking about their days, and politics, only occasionally more personal details. They had kissed. That much was true, but they were adults, well beyond the age where a kiss had to be anything more than a moment. 

A knock at their office door prevented Amanda from pushing the issue further, and Sonny stood up to pull it open, greeting their guest with a smile. 

“Thank you so much for coming, Ms.Cabot,” Sonny greeted, welcoming her into the small office. Amanda stood up to shake her hand. 

“Thank you for having me,” Cabot nodded with a firm shake. “I'm surprised you wanted a simple ADA on your show, honestly,” she remarked, following Sonny as he led them through the heavy door into the recording suite. 

“Well, we try to get a variety of voices in on the show,” Amanda replied quickly, closing the door behind her as they all settled into the black leather desk chairs. “But I'm sure you know how huge this Muñoz scandal is, what with his connections to senators, and the campaign backers.”

Cabot nodded, folding her hands together in her lap, “I've been contacted by several media outlets about it, so I had a feeling that was the motivation here. Let me be candid before we start, that there are a lot of things I can't talk about while the case is still ongoing…” she trailed off. 

Amanda and Sonny nodded, they had known that much before inviting her, “that's fine, just whatever you can say. We've also never had a prosecutor on the pod, and neither of us have been to law school, so we’ll be asking some about the procedure of a trial and such,” Sonny explained with a gentle smile. He and Amanda recorded podcasts weekly, sometimes more often when they did special events or guest appearances on other shows, but he knew that taking into a recording, knowing there were no do overs was sort of intimidating. 

Sonny shuffled his notes around in front of him. They usually dealt with politics, the inner workings of the federal government where they’d both spent more than a decade, sometimes state politics. But really, neither were familiar with the criminal justice system outside the articles they’d read here and there. 

“Just speak at your normal volume, the mics are pretty good at picking up your voice,” Amanda explained, leaning over the soundboard. “That one over there is going to move around an obnoxious amount. I don’t know why. He can sit at his desk for eight hours straight reading press reports but god forbid he stay still for the hour and a half we use to record.” 

Sonny scoffed incredulously, “I don’t do that.” 

Amanda just shot him a knowing look, “he does, don’t let him distract you. We’ll start the recording on my countdown. Just wait for us to introduce you and then we’ll just have a conversation, alright?” 

Cabot nodded, crossing her legs, hands still resting gently in her lap. Sonny watched Amanda raise her hand and count down on her fingers before selecting the record button. 

“Good morning, Sondasies, welcome to The Sonday Report. As many of you well know by now, my name is Sonny Carisi, wordsmith and future poet laureate, and I’m here with my co-host Amanda Rollins who used to do some stuff at the White House a while ago or something,” Sonny leaned into the microphone, his fists resting heavy on the table in front of him. 

“He says that like he actually did any work on his own at the White House, when in reality he spent eight years sitting on my desk whining about writer’s block,” Amanda grimaced, glaring at Sonny across the table. “We’re here today with an Assistant District Attorney from Manhattan, Alexandra Cabot, Ms. Cabot thank you so much for joining us.” 

“It’s great to be here, please, though, call me Alex,” she smiled softly, voice steady but firm, and Sonny remembered that he shouldn’t have been surprised, that she may not have been involved with politics, but she still stood in a courtroom staring down violent criminals every day.

“Alex, absolutely,” Sonny nodded, “so we’ve conned Alex into joining us today because as an assistant district attorney in Manhattan, she’s currently working on the prosecution of Alex Muñoz, and we’re incredibly nosey and want to know what’s going on.” 

“This particular case has reached national news, despite the fact that Muñoz was only running for mayor, in part because of his connections to several US Senators and Representatives, as well as a presidential cabinet member,” Amanda continued before turning back to Alex. “Before we dive into all that, and conscious of the fact that you can’t give much away about the case, why don’t we start with a little bit about criminal procedure.”

“Most of our listeners are newly into politics and might not be super familiar with the criminal justice system outside of television, so could you tell us a little about where the case stands right now?” Sonny continued seamlessly. He and Amanda had fallen into a groove together in their first year at the White House, and it was an easy rhythm to sustain, even all these years later. 

“Sure, the investigation was handled primarily by detectives out of Manhattan Special Victims Unit. When detectives believe they have a suspect in custody, they reach out to the district attorney’s office to handle procuring an arrest warrant,” Alex explained slowly, swiveling the chair back and forth ever so slightly as she spoke. 

“And Muñoz has already been arrested, so you were presumably that the police reached out to?” Sonny encouraged. 

Alex shook her head, “I wasn’t actually. I’ve worked with SVU, that’s Special Victims Unit, for quite some time, but there are multiple prosecutors within my department that handle cases. I was in court when they were looking to get the arrest warrant so it was handled by another attorney.” 

Sonny cocked his head, “so how did you end up with the case instead of the person who handled the arrest warrant?” 

Amanda laughed, “let me guess, some man was overworked and you had to pick up the slack,” she teased lightly, an obvious jab at Sonny, her gaze darting over the table to grin at him. 

Alex chuckled, “not exactly, but not too far off. Ultimately our caseload is determined by the District Attorney. Given the high profile nature of this case, it was given to me, because I have the highest conviction rate in the department.” 

“That’s impressive, congratulations,” Amanda smiled, “so after the case got handed to you…” she trailed off questioningly. 

Alex nodded again, her eyes following Sonny as he stood up from the desk, switching over to his head set, “right, so I was given the file after we established that we were going to pursue charges against Muñoz. Given the nature of the case, I had investigators from the DA’s office attempt to collect any additional information they could find to support or refute the case.”

She paused, momentarily distracted as Sonny settled against the back counter, hands stuffed casually in his pockets, and she shook her head gently as if to clear it before continuing, “at that point, I brought an indictment against Muñoz, and he had to go before a grand jury. He was indicted on charges of possession of child pornography, endangering the welfare of a child, as well as sexual misconduct.”

Sonny pulled his hands from his pocket, fiddling with a coin he had apparently found, “so for our listeners, what happens with the case next?” 

“So we have our trial date set by the judge. Before we start the trial we have voir dire, jury selection. We try to weed out anyone we think may have biases against police, or the court system, anyone who might favor any particular attributes of the defendant, while the defense attorney does the same. After we settle on a panel of jurors, we move on to the trial,” Alex explained, shifting in her seat to cross her legs the other way. 

“So moving away from the Muñoz case for a moment. One of the common themes we’ve been seeing a lot in the news lately is the idea of prosecutorial discretion. As a prosecutor yourself, I was wondering if you could explain this idea a little bit, to clear up some of the confusion I’ve been seeing in the media,” Sonny asked from across the room, hand on the headset. 

“Sure, so under American law, a prosecutor has near absolute and unreviewable authority to choose whether or not to bring charges against a person accused of a crime. A prosecutor is essentially representing the state, so when I bring charges, I’m not representing a police department, or the victim, but society itself. So my job is to look at society’s interest in court, and in seeking punishment, so I have wide latitude to exercise political authority, and make decisions not to prosecute crimes, even if I believe they have occurred, if it’s in the interest of justice and society. This has come up in conversations often surrounding the idea of civil disobedience in the name of the greater good, like the case of Chelsea Manning,” Alex leaned back in her chair. 

They all jumped at the startling sound of a ringtone cutting through the silence of the recording studio. _Dream a little dream of me…_ Sonny dug into his pocket, face flushed with embarrassment as he silenced the call. 

“Don’t mind that,” Amanda joked lightly, reaching a hand out to rest on Alex’s forearm. “It’s just Sonny’s new boyfriend, Rafael Barba,” she teased, looking over at Sonny, still beat red as he dropped back into his desk chair. 

“Amanda’s just jealous because she doesn’t actually have any friends other than me,” Sonny snipped back, trying to play off the heat on his face. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to interrupt you, Alex,” he added sheepishly, dropping his phone to the table after turning it off. 

* * *

The light was streaming through slatted blinds and dusty windows, but still not enough to draw Sonny out of bed. He knew it had to be somewhere around ten am, maybe eleven, but he had nowhere in particular to be. The blessing of Monday mornings after their podcasts went up the night before. 

He scrolled lazily through his notifications, the comments, the tweets, facebook messages and wall posts, it was overwhelming. The barrage of social media had gotten stronger as the podcast had picked up steam, but the last eighteen hours or so had been ridiculous. 

The ring tone, and Amanda’s comment had unleashed a firestorm and Sonny was stuck in a certain kind of hell, the attentive fans freaking out about Sonny in a relationship, squealing about how cute he and Rafael would be together. Sonny sighed and closed his eyes, letting his hand fall back to the bed with the phone. 

They had been on unsteady ground, that much was for sure. And Rafael had admitted already to listening to the podcast, was certain to hear the joke. And if not, all of the mentions on twitter were sure to clue him in. Just the thought had a hot flush spreading across the bridge of his nose. 

He pried his eyes back open as his phone vibrated, the tell tale ring of facetime buzzing in his ear and he sat up, running a hand through sleep ruffled waves, trying to tame it just a little before he answered the call. 

“Don’t you ever do any work?” Sonny asked with a sleepy grin as Rafael’s face graced his phone screen. 

“I’m as surprised as you are that the majority leader isn’t a slave driver, given his roots, but alas, we are allowed to break for lunch,” Rafael replied, giving him an appraising look. “You’re still in bed?”

Sonny just grumbled a reply, glancing at the clock, he hadn’t realized how late it was, quarter to noon. “Its my day off I get to do whatever I want.” 

“So my phone has been blowing up with notifications all morning…” Rafael changed the subject, and Sonny resisted the urge to groan, there it was, what he’d been dreading. “Twitter seems to think that I’m your boyfriend for some reason.” 

Sonny tilted his head back, pulling a dramatic face before looking back at Rafael, “I know, I’m sorry, if you didn’t listen to the podcast, Amanda made a joke and they took it way too seriously, I’ll clarify for the hoard of Sondasies.” 

Rafael just laughed lightly, “it’s okay, no need to apologize, it’s pretty funny. And I mean, hey, you’re practically a celebrity, what with your verified twitter account and million plus subscribers, so I’ll just say I’m flattered that your listeners would ever think you’d want to date me.” 

Sonny paused for a beat, lips parting slightly as the words hung on his tongue, brow knitted in confusion, “what? I mean, I think the entire world knew months ago that I was crushing on you. You even admitted as much when you were on the show…” 

Rafael paused, eyes darting away from the camera and Sonny could feel the churn of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He’d let that slip too easily, played his hand too soon. The silence between them was deafening. 

“I-” Rafael Barba, US Senator, at a loss for words. “I’m eleven years older than you, Sonny. I spend three weeks out of every month in Washington DC, that other week is only sometimes spent in the city. It…” he trailed off, and Sonny’s face fell. Rafael didn’t need to say it, Sonny knew him well enough already to know what was coming. 

“It doesn’t make sense to try and start something that’s going to be doomed to fail anyway,” Rafael’s voice wavered, almost imperceptibly. “I’ve got to go, I have lunch with the education committee…” 

Sonny swallowed the lump in his throat, “yeah, alright, have fun.”

“Take care…” the call cut before Sonny had a chance to think of something to say, and he sat there, in silence for a moment, wondering what had just happened. It had started out so playfully, like every other conversation they’d had over the past month. 

Sonny tossed his phone across the bed, wincing slightly as he heard it clatter to the ground, too much force, but he didn’t bother to retrieve it, just dropped his head back down to the pillow with a groan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy.

“I hate flying, but I gotta say that deciding to splurge for first class makes it significantly more tolerable,” Sonny remarked as he sank into a plush chair, kicking his feet back up before he looked over at Amanda. Jesse whined loudly, reaching her hands out for Sonny, who lifted her up and settled the toddler contentedly on his lap, a smirk of satisfaction spreading across his face. Amanda complained constantly about her daughter preferring him.

“I mean, it’s not like we can’t afford it,” Amanda shrugged, “considering how well we’ve been doing with branding and marketing. Not to mention our shows have sold out.” It had been a bit of a head rush, the last few whirlwind weeks of traveling. They had done live shows in Chicago, Los Angeles and Houston to surprisingly large crowds. Sonny was having a hard time believing the extent of their success. 

They had spent the majority of their careers in the shadows respectively. Sonny had been working on election campaigns since he was in undergrad, only a stroke of luck that a candidate had noticed his talent for writing and asked him to write a speech in a mayoral race. It had snowballed after that. Amanda had followed a similar path. And then they had spent eight years in the looming shade of the Oval Office. It was just part of the job, they knew as much, had never expected more. That was the thing about speech writing, that the words he wrote belonged to another, were supposed to be seen as authentically someone else’s. Too much time in the spotlight would have ruined the illusion. 

It was different now though. As far as Sonny was concerned, he’d reached his peak as a speechwriter. Where was there to go, after the executive of the United States? The current administration had no interest in keeping him on of course, and he would have had no interest in staying anyway. 

A new chapter had been the obvious solution. He just hadn’t expected a new chapter to be more successful than his last. 

“I can’t believe how well everything’s been going,” Sonny admitted, bouncing his knees a little to keep Jesse smiling and giggling in his lap. “All the shows going off without a hitch? I’m afraid of jinxing it.” 

“Well don’t say that, dumbass,” Amanda rolled her eyes, and Sonny quickly clasped his hands over Jesse’s ears, shooting her a scandalized look. “You gonna be alright, with the next one?”

It was Sonny’s turn to roll his eyes. They were headed back to the east coast, but still had one more show scheduled before completing the circuit. It had made sense when they planned it, ending a short tour of their political podcast in the heart of federal politics, Washington D.C. but now Sonny was just dreading it. Dreading being in the same city as the senate while they were in session. 

It wasn’t a small town by any means, but politics had a way of feeling like it was, and Sonny wasn’t keen on running into Rafael. 

“Yeah I’m fine, we’re just doing the show and heading home,” he tickled Jesse, reveling in her adorable little giggles. If he spent too much time thinking about it, he knew he’d sink back into the sour mood that had been plaguing him the whole trip. 

They hadn’t talked since that afternoon, since Sonny had laid his cards out on the table prematurely, since Rafael had not just folded but walked away from the game entirely. Sonny had lost count of the number of times his thumb had hovered over his screen, over the little button to send a text, or call, or facetime, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow through. 

Rafael had been the one pushing. Rafael called every morning, Rafael texted goodnight, Rafael facetimed on his lunch breaks. The radio silence after the bombshell had told Sonny everything he needed to know, even if he didn’t understand why things had gone south so instantaneously. 

“Sonny?” An elbow in his side drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized he had been staring out the plane window. He turned to look at Amanda, a standard mixture of annoyance and concern on her face. 

“What? Sorry,” he apologized quickly before realizing why she’d been trying to get his attention, the blinking light indicating they needed to fasten their seatbelts, and the static of the intercom before the flight attendant announced they were beginning their descent into Ronald Reagan Washington National airport. 

Amanda reached over, lifting Jesse back into her own lap to let Sonny buckle his seatbelt, and she turned back to him again. “You really should try to talk to him, Sonny. We’re going to be here for three days, I’m sure you can find the time to have an actual face to face conversation.” 

Sonny just shrank in his seat. She had been his first call after the conversation, had listened to him babble on for almost an hour, trying to figure out what exactly had gone wrong. 

_Just talk to him_ had been her chorus for weeks now, steadfastly determined that it was he who needed to reach out. Sonny’s stomach churned just at the thought. He’d put himself out there once, had admitted feelings more than friendship. He wasn’t sure he could handle rejection again, Sonny thought to himself as he craned his neck to look out the window as they dipped into a thick of clouds. 

* * *

It was just past eight in the morning when they arrived at the hotel, their bags escorted up to suites even nicer than the places they’d stayed over the past few weeks. It was early, for Sonny, they’d been up since nearly three am to catch their flight, and he had told himself he’d sleep on the plane, but he could never seem to get comfortable enough. 

And really, the plush silk covered bed did have a certain sort of allure despite the sunlight streaming through half drawn curtains. They had nowhere to be, no plans until that evening for the show, but Sonny’s head was buzzing, far too wired to settle down long enough to sleep. 

Sonny sighed heavily and dropped his bags to the plush carpeted floor and headed for the bathroom. His hands gripped polished marble, the edges of the countertop, elbows buckling under the weight of him as he studied his face in the mirror. The circles under his eyes had darkened from the last time he’d bothered to look at himself, a gaunt sort of port wine, and he grimaced. He hadn’t been sleeping well, couldn’t seem to let his mind settle long enough to drift into a lasting slumber. 

He shook his head and reached for the taps, splashing startlingly cold water over his face. Under the bright lights of the stage and twenty feet away from the nearest audience member, the circles wouldn’t be noticeable anyway. 

His phone vibrated against his thigh, and he dug it out of his pocket, trying to tamp down the fleeting moment of hope, that maybe it was Rafael. That maybe he had listened to the last podcast that maybe he knew that Sonny was in DC. But his eyes scanned the text message, and it was only Amanda. Always Amanda. 

With a roll of his eyes, Sonny huffed and pocketed his wallet and card key before crossing the hall to knock on Amanda’s door. It swung open just as his knuckles found purchase on hard wood and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. She knew him frustratingly well. “What are your plans for the day?” He asked, picking Jesse up off the floor with a dramatic flourish, earning a squeal from the little girl. “You going to get some legislating done while we’re here, sweet pea?” He turned his attention to her, still holding her up in the air. 

She laughed, reaching her hands out for his face, still babbling nonsense. Sonny laughed, settling on the edge of the bed. Amanda was already at the coffee pot, dumping grounds into the filter. “I thought maybe I’d take Jesse to the National Zoological Park,” she replied, turning the coffee pot on before turning to lean her hip against the counter. 

“You’re welcome to join us, but you know, I was checking the Senate schedule for the day…” Amanda trailed off and Sonny realized he was cornered. She’d done this deliberately, encouraged him into the room, placed herself between him and the coffee, him and the door. 

“Oh that sounds fascinating, research for our show tonight? I thought we had already planned what we were going to be talking about though,” Sonny feigned innocence, his gaze focused on the little girl in front of him, her hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. 

“No no, don’t play dumb with me, Sonny,” Amanda shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. They have floor debates for the DREAM Act, I’m sure Barba’s gonna be speaking today, you should go.” 

Sonny groaned, setting Jesse back down on the ground before he threw himself back on the bed with a solid thud. “Amanda, he made himself clear. He doesn’t want to talk to me, what’s the point of showing up at his place of work like some dramatic romantic comedy gesture?” 

Amanda crossed the room in a few quick steps, face pulled into a scowl as she loomed over him. “How many times do I have to say it. He gave you excuses. He said you’ll never see each other. He said the age difference is too big. Not once did he say he didn’t feel the same way about you. So. Go. Talk. To. Him,” she punctuated dramatically, giving him a playful shove. 

“At the very least, you know whatever he has to say about the DREAM Act is going to be amazing. Go for the sake of being a nerd, if not for the sake of being a romantic.” 

Sonny rolled over, pressing his face into the soft silk of the bed, contemplating for a moment why her bed seemed to be more comfortable than the one in his room across the hall. “Alright, fine,” he muttered his muffled acquiescence into the sheets. “What should I wear?”

* * *

Uncertainty seemed to be a certainty in his life, Sonny thought with the bitter hint of irony, like he was walking through gravel and sand, ready to twist an ankle at any second as the ground gave way. He could feel the blood roaring in his ears, sweat beading on his forehead even in the mild Virginia January as he approached the Capitol building. 

He smoothed his hands down his black vest, in part to flatten out the wrinkles, but more so to wipe the dampness from his palms as he got into line for security. It was stupid, he reminded himself. There was no sense in getting himself so worked up just to sit in the gallery of the Senate. Rafael wouldn’t know he was there, wouldn’t bother to crane his neck to see the array of strangers settled in to watch the proceedings, legislative action in progress. 

By the time he settled into the wooden seat, leather bag on the floor, legs crossed casually over each other, the debates had already started. A young couple whispered back and forth next to him, and a young kid’s shoes made contact with the legs of his chair in an uneven staccato rhythm. He struggled to focus, to hear what was going on down on the floor. 

His eyes scanned the chairs, searching out a familiar brown coif, perfectly styled hair. The movement caught his eyes first, the drawing back of a wooden chair, legs scraping against the floor. He stood slowly, and Sonny traced his movements with meticulous precision. Papers in hand, dressed in a three piece suit, not a speck of lint or stray hair out of place, Sonny was sure even from the distance. 

He had seen Rafael speak on tv, had watched some of his campaign videos, clips from campaign rallies. And of course he’d seen him in person, at the recording studio, over the day they had spent together, over facetime. All of it paled in comparison, to seeing Rafael in his element, the broad set of his shoulders, slight puff of his chest, the undeniable power and authority radiating from his being. 

The hush whispers, the kid kicking his chair, the white noise of a crowd of people seemed to fade into periphery as Sonny’s attention was pulled in, transfixed on the man taking the floor. 

Rafael settled easily, papers spread out in front of him, but he didn’t glance down for a moment as he began to speak, “Today I rise in support of Dreamers,” he started slowly, voice reverberating in the open space, the sort of command Sonny knew he could only dream of emulating. “In the past several months, I have had the absolute privilege of meeting with many Dreamers who now call my state home. Dreamers, who were brought to this country as children by families seeking a better life then the one they could provide in their native countries. They were just kids—and had no role in the decision to leave their native countries and have done nothing wrong. They demonstrate one of our nation’s most basic promises: that the American dream is available to anyone who is willing to work for it.” 

Sonny leaned forward, craning to watch Rafael speak, hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. A chill ran up his spine, skin prickling against the rise of gooseflesh on his arms. For the briefest moment, he wondered if the words were Rafael’s, if they were his own, or if someone in some office somewhere had labored over them for hours like Sonny used to do, but the thought was cut off. 

“I’d like to share one of the stories that was shared with me. Jocelyn Gonzalez was just two years old when her father was killed by the cartel in Acapulco, Mexico. Afraid, and alone, Jocelyn’s mother packed up her three young children, all under the age of five, and traveled to the United States to stay with her sister,” Rafael paused for a moment, a sober cloud settling over the hall. 

“Jocelyn’s mother found work as a waitress, and sought out the help of an attorney to begin the process of becoming a permanent resident, along with her children. Unfortunately, like so many before her, Jocelyn’s mother fell victim to a scam, and the man she thought was an attorney made off with thousands of dollars of her hard earned money, without having ever filed a single document. Jocelyn was eight years old at the time, and shared with me the incredibly painful experience of coming home to find her mother had killed herself, had seen no way out of the situation she’d fallen into.”

Rafael took a deep breath, a heavy pause, and Sonny wasn’t certain from the gallery but he thought he could see the man’s hands shaking. 

“Jocelyn had no family left in Mexico, and she and her siblings continued to live with her aunt. Jocelyn, despite the loss of her mother, despite her constant fear of deportation, fear of being forced to return to a country she had no memories of, graduated high school with a 4.0. She was accepted to the Pre-Med program at Harvard University, where she has been on the Dean’s List for five out of five semesters. With the repeal of DACA, Jocelyn now faces the risk of deportation, the threat of being sent to a country where she has no family, no support, who’s language she doesn’t even speak.” 

Rafael paused again, his gaze scanning the room, and Sonny wondered if maybe, just maybe he could see him. 

“America is the only country Jocelyn knows, the only country that many Dreamers know. It is their home. They have had the courage to step forward, to come out of the shadows to tell their stories. Now, Congress ought to show some courage, to protect Dreamers by passing a clean Dream Act. We’ve waited too long already. Every day we delay, more than 100 Dreamers lose their protected status and are forced to return to the shadows, are forced to consider the possibility of ICE agents breaking down their doors or seizing them if they go to school or work.” 

Sonny shivered, reveling in the tactile power of Rafael’s words. 

“The time to act is now, right now. If we held a vote on the Dream Act today, it would pass. So my question is this: what are we waiting for? Let us vote,” his words lingered in the hallowed hall, settling heavy on all of the occupants, and Rafael gave a curt nod before collecting the papers he hadn’t glanced at once to return to his seat. 

Sonny swallowed the lump in his throat, hands finally releasing the worn wood of the chair arms. He had doubted before; had thought maybe the day spent with Rafael had been a flurry of excitement, a mirage of feelings that wouldn’t have persisted when the rosy tint of illusion faded away. 

There was no doubting now. 

* * *

Jesse had promptly fallen asleep after her adventures at the zoo, much to Sonny’s relief when he returned to the hotel. The nanny Amanda had hired to come along on the trip, to watch Jesse while they were working, was good with her, a sweet girl, but Jesse still had a strong preference for hanging out with Uncle Sonny, and usually only made his rushed flurry to get ready for their shows more of an ordeal. 

It was nearly six when they arrived at the venue in the backseat of a cab. Amanda had encouraged a town car, or even a limo, but Sonny had rolled his eyes and insisted that they could schlep there like the rest of the population. 

The venue was smaller than the last, with a sort of cozy intimacy that Sonny decided he liked as he stood on stage for the sound check, adjusting his vest under the hot glow of the stage lighting. The whole live show concept had been concerning to him at first. On paper it didn’t seem much different than what he and Amanda had been doing together for ages, talking about things, joking around with each other, inviting on guests to question. 

Just, the live shows required an audience. And it wasn’t really that he was worried about messing up, that same sort of fear existed with the podcasts too, they’d recorded some of them live, but that was still different. The live shows meant being in the spotlight, meant having eyes fixed on him, watching him. It had been why they had picked a podcast instead of a youtube show. Sonny was used to the shadows. 

He paced back and forth backstage wringing his hands together as the anxiety bloomed like tea leaves in his stomach. 

“Sonny, you about ready?” Amanda asked, leaning against the wall, always calm, always collected, never a hint of the anxiety that plagued his being. 

Sonny looked up, adjusting the rolled cuff of his sleeve one last time before nodding. They stepped out on stage to a resounding swell of applause, and he could feel the heat rising on his cheeks already. They settled into their chairs, and Sonny reached for the bottle of water on a table next to them, just to have the comfort of something in his hands. 

“Hey everybody,” Sonny greeted with a broad smile, tucking his feet to sit cross legged in the chair, beaming out at the crowd, just a haze of black silhouettes thanks to the stage lights. “Thanks so much for joining us on this special edition of The Sonday Report,” he waved casually before looking over at Amanda. 

“We know it’s not sunday, so thank you even more for taking time out of your friday night to hang out with us,” Amanda added with a grin, shifting in her own chair to get comfortable. 

“Since you managed to drag your asses all the way out here when you could be at a place that actually serves alcohol, we’ll let you in on a little secret,” Sonny grinned, leaning forward to look back out at the crowd. “Everyone thinks we came up with the name because we post our podcasts on Sundays, but really, it’s all about me.”

“What isn’t about you, Sonny?” Amanda admonished quickly. “We do have a surprise for you though. As you know, we’re both presidential speech writers, and this is the capital of the United States…” she trailed off.

Sonny jumped in quickly, “the surprise is that the President will most certainly not be our guest tonight, mostly because we worked for Obama, and also because we were the subject of his most recent twitter war so it seemed a little uncouth to invite him,” he laughed, the anxiety in his stomach settling. 

“And he’d probably say no anyway,” Amanda pulled a face, earning another chorus of laughter from the crowd. 

“It’s been so amazing being back in DC though!” Sonny remarked. “We haven’t actually been back either of us since we got evicted from the White House.” 

“He says that like either of us would have actually wanted to stay…” Amanda laughed. “Sonny actually went down to the Capitol Building today to sit in on Senate debates, so he’s totally prepared to talk about politics tonight.” 

“You went to the zoo, given the current administration, that was probably preparation too,” Sonny grinned, the laughter from the crowd flooding his stomach with a comfortable warmth. 

“Fair, fair,” Amanda nodded, “how were the debates though, we didn’t have a chance to talk about this before so I’m as unaware as you,” she nodded candidly to the audience. 

“Really interesting actually, it’s hit or miss of course, sometimes the legislative is terribly dull, especially when you compare it to the glamour of speech writing,” he winked, “but the debates today were about the DREAM Act, or Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act. Several senators spoke on both sides, but I have to say, totally unbiased, that Senator Barba’s speech to the senate was incredible. The whole room went quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I haven’t seen someone hold a crowd’s attention like that since we were working on the Obama campaign, honestly…” 

Amanda looked over at him, a smirk spreading across her face like the cat that ate the canary, “unbiased, huh, I didn’t know you were capable.”

Sonny was just grateful that the heat of the stage lights hid the rising blush on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me be candid, I lifted part of Rafael's speech from Senator Warren and Rep. Gutiérrez's speeches on the DREAM Act from 2017. Its not direct quotes, but heavily influenced by!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all like this addition! We've nearing the end!

“Oh quit whining, how is it possible that you’re the biggest drama queen out of all of us?” Bella rolled her eyes as she sprawled out over the couch in Sonny’s apartment, watching him with mild amusement as Sonny sat on the floor, rolling a ball back and forth with his niece. 

“Because I was the only boy in a house full of sisters, it was adapt or perish, not my fault I’m an overachiever,” Sonny glared at her over his shoulder before turning back to little Christina. “And I’m not whining, I’m venting, what happened to family being supportive, Bells, I’m emotionally distraught.” 

Bella just grimaced, “so why don’t you call him.” She had been saying the same thing for nearly a week, since he had gotten back to New York and had realized that he and Amanda had agreed to take a week off after the tour, that Amanda had decided to head south from DC to Georgia to bring Jesse to visit her mother. 

Sonny had never particularly handled being alone well. After growing up with a house full of sisters and cousins, and spending the vast majority of his adult life with roommates, Sonny was used to near constant companionship. And at the very least, he could usually count on Amanda to be ready for food and shitty reality tv shows. Bella was a close replacement, but decidedly more cruel with her commentary. 

“Why don’t I call him?” Sonny leaned back against the armchair, head lolling onto the cushion. “Don’t you think I’ve thought about it? But he made it pretty clear, Bells. I told him I was into him, and he told me there was no point.” 

She sighed heavily, standing up from the couch to head towards the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open. “Mint or Strawberry?” Bella asked, waiting for confirmation before grabbing the container and a couple spoons. “He told you there was no point because of a bunch of excuses, do you need me and Amanda to record this in surround sound to get it through your thick skull? He never said he wasn’t interested in you too.” 

He reached out for the container of ice cream, but groaned as she held it just out of reach, and reluctantly picked himself up off the floor to settle next to her on the couch. “It doesn’t count as being a good sister,” he pointed to the container, “since you’re feeding me my own food.” 

Bella snorted, pulling the container of ice cream open and digging her own spoon in before offering it to Sonny. 

He took his own spoonful, “and he didn’t say he wasn’t interested, because he doesn’t have to, Bella. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and he’s probably right. He’s up for reelection soon, I’m sure dating a bonehead internet personality would be bad for his campaign.”  

“My god Sonny, how do you manage to be the most arrogant and most self deprecating person I know simultaneously?” Bella punched his shoulder, not enough to really hurt, but hard enough to make her point. 

“Pulling out the SAT words?” Sonny just rolled his eyes again. 

“Talk to him, Sonny. You’ve gotta stop pining.”

* * *

The alarm blared in his ear, the glass screen of his phone still pressed against his cheek and Sonny groaned. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, couldn’t remember even going to bed, just the taste of whiskey on his lips, the hazy memory of a bar. 

His head felt like it was about to split open, and he struggled sluggishly to turn off the alarm. Even moving as slowly as he did, his stomach churned uncomfortaby, and he scrambled for the bathroom. His knees hit the cold tial with a heavy thud and he gripped the porcelain edges of the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach with wracking heaves. 

Sonny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before sinking down, back against the wall and let out a soft groan. Drinking was a mistake, it always was. Sonny had learned the limits of his alcohol tolerance at the tender age of seventeen, and had then promptly made a habit of blowing right past them with reckless abandon. 

He had tempered with age, with the degree of professionalism required of working in federal politics, with the internal admission that he could reconcile his faith and his inclinations. But still, when he had a drink, he rarely just had one. 

Sonny cringed as his phone resumed its shrill anthem, reminding him that he couldn’t spend the morning hours nursing his hangover against floor tiles, that he had places to be. With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up off the floor slowly, trying not to upset his stomach further. 

Between getting ready, and pausing to heave in front of the toilet more than a few times, it took Sonny twice as long to get out the door as usual, and he growled to himself as he checked his watch, picking up his pace to a near run to reach the train in time. He was sweaty and breathless, stomach churning, head spinning as he half dove into the train car, settling into a seat. Any other city and he might have drawn a few disturbed glances at the state of him, still pale and feverish, obviously nauseous. As it was, no one batted an eyelash. 

The erratic jerking forward and back as it started and stopped, the rocking of the train against the rails did nothing to soothe his stomach, and when he exited at his stop to head for his usual coffeeshop, he had to pause, glaring at a man who bumped into him, “watch it,” Sonny snapped, but the man just kept walking.   
Naturally, the line was nearly out the door when Sonny arrived at the cafe, it was too much to hope for quick service, he already knew that, even as the handful of aspirin he’d taken earlier started to ease the edges of his headache. 

He eased forward with the line, and sucked up a smile as a group of young college students recognized him from the podcast, chatting with them until the barista was ready to take his order. Sonny wasn’t sure if he would ever really get used to it, being the sort of face that people recognized in a crowd. It was nice, in some respects, evidence that all of his and Amanda’s hard work had paid off, but still, it was disconcerting, having all of those people know so much about him, recognizing him on the street. 

“Sonny,” the barista called, setting a paper cup on the countertop, and Sonny excused himself from the group of students to collect his drink. He muttered a quick thank you and slipped out of the coffee shop, eyes trained on his watch. He was running late, still, again. Something of the sort, he should have expected it, he’d been running behind a lot lately, and he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t seem to move at his usual pace, physically or mentally. 

He arrived at the office twenty minutes late in a blustering whirlwind of apologies and destruction, knocking a stack of files off the corner of Amanda’s desk, tipping the coffee in his hand, dribbling down over his knuckles and onto the floor. Sonny cursed loudly before dropping into his desk chair with a huff. 

“Jesus, rough morning?” Amanda raised an eyebrow before leaning down to collect the array of papers and file folders scattered across the floor. 

“Please lower your voice,” Sonny moaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall forward onto his desk. 

“Really? You’re hungover?” She dropped the files back onto her desk. “Is this some sort of walk of shame? Did you hook up with some random guy in a bar to convince yourself that you’re not in love with Barba?” Her tone was teasing, but Sonny could hear the hint of disapproval from a mile away. 

“Lower your voice, please,” he repeated, “and no.” Sonny lifted his head up to glare at her, wincing at the light hitting his eyes again. “You know me better than that. I can’t do casual sex, I just don’t have it in me.” 

“You’ve just gotta defy every single stereotype, don’t you,” she muttered. “You gonna be okay for the podcast in a bit? Our guest is supposed to be here around noon.” Amanda returned to her own desk chair, rifling through more files in her drawer before pulling out the one she’d been looking for. “I assume you haven’t had a chance to go over the notes yet but I’ve got them here.”

Sonny grunted noncommittally, but nodded, and wheeled his chair a bit to reach for the file. “Yeah, I should be fine, just trying to get this headache to stop making my head feel like Lizzie Borden took a whack at it,” he scowled, but settled back down in front of his desk to flip the file open. 

Amanda just chuckled, turning her focus to the papers in front of her. 

It was half past eleven when Sonny finally looked up from the files, half-drank cold cup of coffee in hand as his stomach rumbled, reminding him that between the rough morning and his current situation, he hadn’t eaten anything. 

Amanda glanced up with an unamused expression flickering on her face, “you better eat something, I don’t think the listeners want to hear your stomach screaming for mercy for an hour and a half.” 

“I thought you said he was going to be here around noon?” Sonny asked, tipping his chair back to stretch sore joints, the self-satisfying pops only drowned out by another loud rumble of his stomach.

“Yeah, so just go get something from the deli downstairs,” she rolled her eyes again, and Sonny was mildly surprised she didn’t crack another joke about how she really had two children, but he figured pointing out her restraint was contrary to his own interests, and elected to just nod, standing up from his chair. 

Sonny wandered down several flights of stairs to the first floor, into the little Jewish deli that had taken up residence in their office building around the same time they did. He smiled pleasantly at the cashier, thankful that the mind numbing throb inside his skull had subsided quite a bit, and ordered. 

Waiting for his sandwich, Sonny leaned against the wall and dug into his pocket for his phone. With the hazy ache of his hangover and the flurry of trying to prepare for the looming podcast, he hadn’t had a chance to check his usual array of notifications and news alerts. 

The usual, mostly. The comments about how he and Amanda ought to get together, and he snorted quietly at the thought. The comments complaining about the week off they had taken, the comments about how attractive he was. 

Sonny paused for a moment, thumb hovering over a twitter handle, the comments about how Sonny seemed to be talking about Senator Barba less, the theories about why that was. He frowned. None of them were quite right, but a few were too close for comfort and he shook his head, navigating away from the app to check the news cycle. There was always the risk that they’d miss a hot ticket news item, recording the day before they made the podcasts available. He took every chance he could get to stay updated.

_Despite Whip Count, Senate passes DREAM Act._ Sonny’s lips parted slightly with unarticulated surprise. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Rafael… he had sat in the room during his speech, knew intimately the sheer resonating power his words had had on people. But still, no one had expected it to pass, the last count had them five votes shy and no leverage to move. 

“Hun,” the cashier called. Sonny looked up, and realized it probably wasn’t the first time she had tried to get his attention, holding out a paper bag. He thanked her quickly, accepting the sandwich before practically leaping up the stairs, long legs spanning three steps at a time. 

He opened his mouth to announce to Amanda what he’d seen, but stopped in his tracks when he opened the door to find their guest already there, sitting casually against a bare spot on Sonny’s desk. “Ah you must be Sonny, I’m John Munch,” he offered his hand. 

Sonny plastered a friendly smile onto his face and shook his hand, “should I call you John?” He dropped the wax paper bag on his desk resignedly, there wasn’t going to be time to eat before the show at this point. 

“Munch is fine,” the man replied, “I was just telling your lovely colleague here that if either of you are ever interested in running for office, I’d be happy to take point. I think there’s a lot of potential here.” 

Amanda let out a little laugh, “I don’t think that’s in the cards for either of us anytime soon, but thanks for the offer.” She picked a file up off of her desk and tucked it under her arm before motioning towards the door into the recording studio. “No sense in waiting, if you’re ready,” she glanced at Sonny before turning back to Munch. 

Sonny reached to grab the baseball off his desk, the same one he always had in hand while writing in the White House and followed Amanda and Munch into the studio, dropping heavily into the black leather chairs. 

“Do you need us to go over the whole spiel before we get started?” Amanda asked, leaning over the soundboard. 

“I’m a seasoned professional,” Munch replied, leaning back to cross his legs, hands folded over his knee. Amanda just nodded and began the count down. 

“Good morning, and welcome back to The Sonday Report, we know many of you were disappointed that we took a week off after our crazy cross country tour, but hey, if Congress gets a recess, so do we. For those who can’t tell by the charming Staten Island accent, I’m your co-host, Sonny Carisi, and the grating southern drawl belongs to none other than Amanda Rollins,” 

“I think you’re the only one in the world who would characterize our accents that way,” Amanda quipped, “but yeah, we’re so glad to be back, my daughter doesn’t sleep well in hotels, so I’ve learned-”

“Which is why I ended up on babysitting duty far more often than I agreed to initially,” Sonny butted in, moving the baseball back and forth between his hands. 

“He says that like he didn’t volunteer, might I add,” Amanda rolled her eyes, “but moving on, we’ve got a really interesting guest on the show today, but before we reveal that, just wanted to hit some of the headlines. Obviously high on the list and front page of all the papers is the investigation into the election, and the special prosecutor who was appointed, and allegedly almost fired, details still aren’t clear on that…” 

She trailed off, looking to Sonny. Their podcasts never really had a particular structure, they mostly just prepared talking points and tried to make it as much of a natural conversation as possible. 

“Yeah, I was actually going to say too, the Senate just recessed, and I can’t believe they voted in favor of the DREAM Act,” Sonny couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely thrilled, I think this is such an important step in helping some of our most vulnerable populations but it really didn’t look like it was going to make it through.” 

“Yeah the last count looked like an absolute no go, something must have really swayed people, any theories?” Amanda grinned as she watched Munch bristle in his seat, still not introduced, they both knew he’d have plenty of theories but couldn’t say as much. 

“I suspect there was some sort of backroom deal that was cut, because that’s usually just the way these things go, but I’d like to think that Senator Barba’s speech to the Senate had something to do with it,” Sonny admitted, and caught the mischievous flash of blue in her eyes. 

“Of course you do,” she teased, “you were there, of course, do you think it’s possible that he really had an affect on his fellow senators?”

Sonny glared at her, fighting back the heat of a blush blooming across his pale cheeks. “I was there, and I think if anyone were capable of bringing Republicans from one side of this to the other, it would be him.”

Amanda chuckled lightly before turning her attention to the guest sitting patiently, hands still folded in his lap. “I think our guest has been waiting long enough to speak, today we have with us John Munch, political advisor and former campaign manager for several former presidential candidates. He’s an infamous character, and current content creator behind a popular podcast, New World Order-”

“Less popular than ours though,” Sonny added with a grin. 

“Thank you for joining us, Munch, as you refer to yourself on your podcast,” Amanda motioned to him, before her gaze darted back to Sonny, still tossing the baseball back and forth between his hands. 

“Thank you for having me,” Munch nodded. 

“So the basic gist of your podcast is about breaking down conspiracy theories into those you consider legitimate and those you consider to be ridiculous,” Sonny started with a laugh, “how do you sort them, and what’s the interest there anyway?”

“What’s the interest?” Munch started, almost incredulously, “the pursuit of the truth, knowledge, a deeper understanding of the world in which we reside,” his hands gestured widely. “A rigorous analysis of reasoning and facts and an application of common sense lends itself well to the pursuit of truth.” 

“Well…” Amanda trailed off. They had decided they needed to bring in some of the more interesting political voices to keep their content fresh, but neither of them particularly knew what to think of Munch’s podcast. “So tell us, what do you think of the current administration?”

Munch paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between them, “which administration, the president? The Continuity of Government administration? Or Deep State?”

Amanda and Sonny exchanged confused glances, and Sonny nodded, “yeah, why don’t you break those down for us, we need conspiracy theory 101 because the extent of my knowledge is that we never landed on the moon, Kennedy was assassinated by more than one shooter, and that jet fuel doesn’t melt steel beams,” he admitted with a laugh. 

Munch chorused his laughter before setting his hands back on his knee, “ordinarily I would make a comment about how I hoped you knew what the current administration was, but given the current state of world affairs, I’m not sure the president knows what the fuck he’s doing,” he smirked.

“That’s a fair assessment,” Sonny shrugged his shoulders. “But the other two?”

“So Continuity of Government is the idea that there are individuals who were appointed to run the government in the event of a catastrophe, a terrorist attack, a natural disaster, or an economic meltdown. If the COG ever took over, and they’re just waiting for the opportunity, then police state would transition to martial law,” Munch explained, his enthusiasm growing more obvious. 

“Deep State though, poses a larger threat to our freedoms. Its comprised of unelected government bureaucrats, corporations, contractors, and paper-pushers who are actually calling all of the shots behind the scenes, acting like the puppeteers of the government. Its a government within a government, and its the reason ‘we the people’ have no real control over the government, we just have the illusion of choice,” his eyes were glinting, clearly incensed. 

Amanda paused, “so you’re saying that our politicians aren’t making any decisions?” She furrowed her eyebrow. 

“Oh absolutely,” he nodded, reclining comfortably in his chair. 

“Then what about everything that’s going on with the senate? Why care so much about the government and politics if the decisions they make don’t actually mean anything?” Sonny furrowed his brow too. 

“For complicity,” Munch responded simply. “It’s really not a radical theory, people attempt to paint this sort of thing like only a crazy person could believe it was true, but Teddy Roosevelt’s Progressive Party platform stated ‘Behind the ostensible government sits enthroned an invisible government owing no allegiance and acknowledging no responsibility to the people.’” 

The lines etched into Sonny’s face deepened. “In On the Shadow Government, in 1922 John Hyland stated ‘The real menace of our Republic is the invisible government, which like a giant octopus sprawls its slimy legs over our cities, states and nation,’” Munch explained with an ambivalent shrug, take it or leave it. 

“So you really think that all of these politicians, all the people throwing their entire lives into their work, the people passionately invested, they’re being controlled by some Deep State shadow government?” Sonny’s voice raised just a little at the end. He tried not to get riled, was used to having to debate Republicans with a tone of civility, but he wasn’t sure what to make of this. 

“Absolutely,” Munch shrugged his shoulders again. 

Sonny resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “are you trying to suggest that they have no idea that they’re being controlled, or that they’re voluntary puppeteers acquiescing to this shadow control?”

“I mean, there’s no way to know for sure, but I think there’s likely many more in on it than otherwise.” 

Sonny clenched his fist instinctively, surely there was no way Rafael would be involved in such a thing, the mere allegation was ludicrous and inflammatory.  

* * *

Really the podcast had went well all things considered, after Amanda had interrupted to simmer down the brewing debate, and it was a considerable change of pace from their ordinary weekly show. He was sure that most of the listeners at least would enjoy it. The rest of the day though, had been a mind numbing trek through molasses, his feet dragging behind him as he inched forward in time, trying to get home. 

It was nearly nine when he finally crossed the threshold into his little apartment, shedding his coat, and vest and button up before dropping unceremoniously onto the couch with a heavy sigh. His hangover had subsided completely somewhere around three, but he was still aching and exhausted from his exploits the night before. He stretched, reaching for the bottle of bourbon sitting on his end table, and the glass that had been his companion the night before and poured himself a single. 

He wasn’t quite ready to let sleep take him, still buzzing with the stimulus from the day, hoping to quiet it with the soothing burn of whiskey, but he wasn’t sure what to do. The TV held no interest, nor the half dozen half read books splayed out over his coffee table, bindings threatening to crack. 

Sonny didn’t have time to consider it further; a knock echoed through his little apartment, drawing him out of his thoughts. No chance it was Amanda, they’d parted ways only an hour ago and she never showed up without calling. It was too late for it to be Bella, and the knock far too strong. 

With a frown, he pushed himself back up off the couch and walked towards the door, rattling the chain and flipping the deadbolt before pulling the door open. 

Bronze skin painted with the rosy flush of exertion, tiny beads of sweat pearling on his forehead, dark peppered hair just a little out of sorts, Sonny drank in the sight in front of him, Rafael, bright eyed and breathless. 

Sonny paused, not sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You were there?” Rafael breathed out softly. 

Sonny crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door. “What?”

“You were there. At the Senate when I spoke about The DREAM Act? I listened to the podcast, the live show from DC…” he trailed off, the rise and fall of his chest an unsteady rhythm. 

“Of course. I was in DC, I couldn’t not go…” Sonny shrugged his shoulders, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” Short, punctuated, but his green eyes were searching for something Sonny didn’t recognize. “We should do this, if you still want to, we should try. It wouldn’t be easy. You probably wouldn’t see much of me at times, but I want to try.” 

Sonny’s brows knitted together, lips parting slowly to articulate a response with no sound. 

A presidential campaign, eight state of the union addresses, countless press appearances, hundreds of speeches. Sonny always had the words, was always the one with words. Now there were no words in the English language, not enough to articulate what he wanted to say. 

Instead, he just reached out, fisting his hands in the lapels of Rafael’s coat and pulled him stumbling over the threshold into his apartment, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss, the taste of scotch and peppermint still on Rafael’s breath, achingly familiar and foreign, clouding Sonny’s senses in a haze of cognitive dissonance.  

The door swung shut behind them, the length of Rafael pressed desperately against him. Sonny pulled away, sucking in a heated breath, chest heaving. “I want to; I want to try.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep adding chapters this is getting away from me, but for now we've got two more to go. Hope you all enjoy this!

Bright golden rays shone through slatted blinds, catching Sonny’s closed eyes with each deep inhale of breath. He winced, and squeezed his eyes as soon as they parted, rolling over to duck out of the sun. Dawning realization, a smile spread across his face, warmth unfurling gently in his chest as his gaze came to rest on the man next to him nestled into the sheets, features softened with sleep, lips parted slightly, the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Sonny reached out slowly, letting his fingers ghost over Rafael’s bare shoulder, down his chest. It still didn’t feel real, more like the comfortable sleepy haze of a dream still lingering at the edges. The man was still here, in the soft morning glow, stark contrast from the urgent and frenzied desperation of the night before. He had been so worried that he’d wake to find Rafael already gone, lent pajamas folded neatly on the dresser. 

He circled his arm around Rafael’s waist and nestled further into the blankets, pulling him flush. Rafael hummed his approval, tucking his face into the gentle curve of Sonny’s neck. 

“Why are you awake already?” Rafael murmured, hot breath against bare skin, Sonny shuddered. “I didn’t think you had anywhere to be today.”

“I don’t,” Sonny smiled softly, pressing his lips into the loose curls of Rafael’s hair. “I’m an early riser, and its,” he paused, lifting his hand to check his watch, “already eleven am.” He shifted just a little closer, wrapped his arm just a little tighter, still cautious, still worried that the spell might break at any moment, that this thing that had settled between them would dissolve into just a memory, or a dream. 

“Good, because I was thinking maybe we could get brunch or something,” Rafael’s eyes fluttered closed again, the hint of tension melting off his face. 

Sonny paused, pulling back just a bit so he could look at the man in front of him. “Are we going to talk about this?” He swallowed the lump in his throat, fought the rising anxiety in the pit of his stomach. They had danced around each other for too long, Sonny had lost him once, he knew he couldn’t handle the uncertainty anymore, all in or all out. 

Rafael looked up, bright green through long lashes, “talk about what?” 

Sonny let out a soft sigh, shoulders sagging as he dropped his gaze. “You, me, whatever this is going to be?” his brow furrowed and he pulled his hand from the bare skin of Rafael’s waist. “If you want it to be something, I guess.” 

Rafael chuckled lightly, moving his hand to Sonny’s bare hip, pulling him closer. “I told you last night, and I meant it, I want to try, for real if you’re up for it. I promise I wasn’t just trying to get in your pants.”

“Try, like a real relationship? In the you’re not going to get all weird about my twitter followers calling you my boyfriend?” he couldn’t quite keep the hopeful tone out of his voice, still husky from sleep.

Rafael dropped his head, a hint of blush spreading over the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry I was such an ass,” he muttered, barely more than a whisper and a far cry from the authoritarian gravitas his voice usually carried. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I just don’t understand why, I thought everything was going so well before, and then just all of a sudden…” Sonny trailed off, not really sure why he was pushing the issue. Wasn’t it enough that Rafael wanted to be there now? Wanted to try and make it work? But he flicked through the past few weeks, and his stomach churned as he remembered the devastation he had felt. 

“I… it was,” Rafael breathed out a heavy sigh, “I mean, I…” Sonny had never heard him struggle so hard for words, “I’m forty-six, closer to fifty now than forty, and you’re in your thirties. I’m a career workaholic who’s never made time for a serious relationship. I mean really, Sonny. The last time I was in a serious relationship was law school and that didn’t survive past graduation…” he trailed off. “And I figured, I guess, that there was no point in starting something when I knew you’d get sick of me and leave eventually anyway. But that was a mistake, I’ll take as much as I can get, even if it doesn’t last.”

Sonny paused, petal pink lips parting slightly. 

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Sonny finally commented, but his lighthearted tone seemed to flood Rafael with a sense of relief, the tension in his shoulders fading, “I don’t know how much more obvious I can be, I don’t care that you’re older. I understand that you have a time consuming job, I may be younger but I’m not naive,” he whispered reassuringly, nose pressed to Rafael’s cheek, “I’m not expecting you to be around every second of every day, and I hope you’re not expecting that of me. We’ll talk when we can, text when we can’t, and we’ll visit each other when we can, that’s all.” 

Rafael’s face broke into a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling towards bright green, and Sonny could feel the swell of affection in his stomach, and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Still want to go for brunch?”

* * *

“We’re going to be late,” Rafael dropped his duffle bag to the ground and glanced at his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time as his eyes tracked Sonny’s erratic movements around the small apartment.   

“We’re fine, we’re fine, I’m just trying to find my phone,” Sonny checked his apple watch quickly, “we’ve got more than two hours, you’re not going to be late.” He ducked his head, pulling the cushions up from the couch to check underneath and growled in frustration, no cigar. 

“You know traffic’s bad around this time, I just don’t want to miss my flight,” Rafael sighed, stepping around his suitcase to help Sonny look. “When did you have it last?” He asked, shifting through stacks of papers on the desk. 

Sonny paused, “I… made breakfast? I think that’s the last time I had it?” 

Rafael rolled his eyes as he set the stack of papers down and walked into the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cupboards, shifting aside an abundance of utensils and plates and cups before pulling open the fridge, and Sonny smiled sheepishly as Rafael returned to the living room, iphone in hand. “Really, Sonny? Next to the eggs?” His brows were knitted together, lips pursed, but he could only hold the expression for a moment before dissolving into an amused smile. “How do you survive on your own?” A mumbled statement of disbelief more than a question. 

Still, Sonny slung his arm around Rafael’s shoulders, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I guess I’m going to have to remember since you’re headed back to D.C.” It had been a whirlwind, the last few days, and neither of them had really meant for Rafael to spend the entirety of his week off at Sonny’s apartment, but neither could seem to part ways before they had to. Rafael had only returned to his own place once, to collect clothing, and work, and had sprawled his papers and files out over the coffee table, and kitchen counter. 

Sonny had taken the mess in stride, the swell of domesticity sitting happily in his stomach as he left in the mornings to head to the office, and rushed home at the end of the day to meet Rafael for dinner. It was easy, too easy to fall into each other, into domestic bliss, but they both knew there was an expiration date on that. Senate was returning from recess on Monday morning, and Rafael had to be back in DC on Saturday to make it to his morning breakfast meeting the following day.. 

“The lyft is downstairs, are you ready?” Rafael shrugged out from under Sonny’s loose embrace to pick up his bags. He had insisted that Sonny didn’t need to accompany him to the airport, that he’d been flying back and forth for years now, but Sonny wasn’t easy to dissuade once he’d set his mind to something. Their relationship, several years past when Sonny had set his eyes on the Senator from New York, was a testament to that. 

Sonny reached forward, slipping his hand around Rafael’s for a brief minute to lift the suitcase out of his hand. Rafael resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, and followed him to the elevator. Sonny had never been one for public affection, had never seen the point, figured there was never any harm in waiting for privacy. But Rafael was leaving, about to get on a plane to take him half way down the coast, and Sonny wasn’t sure when they’d have a chance to see each other next. 

He stepped forward with a feral grin, crowding Rafael against the wall of the elevator, pressing him into a brief, heated kiss, pulling away just as the bell rang, and the doors parted, slipping out into the building lobby. Rafael paused, still in a stunned daze, contented smile lingering on his face before he gathered himself, and his bag and followed Sonny out to the car waiting. 

Really, Sonny had been right, despite the heavy morning Manhattan traffic, they’d still arrived at LaGuardia with plenty of time to spare. Sonny hesitated at the doors into the terminal, lingering just a bit, eyes drawn upwards as a plane flew overhead. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Rafael laughed, reaching for his suitcase. “I know you’ve got work to do with Amanda, and you can’t come through security without a ticket, why don’t we say goodbye now,” he offered gently. 

Sonny pulled the suitcase just out of Rafael’s reach, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I could you know.” 

Rafael cocked his head, “could what?”

“I could buy a ticket, what ever’s cheapest, just to get through security and wait with you,” his tone was light, teasing, but Rafael knew better already, that he was only half kidding. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you come on strong?” Rafael replied with a grin. 

“Like a summer storm?” Sonny quipped, eyes crinkling up playfully. 

“Like a tractor trailer.” Rafael deadpanned before letting out a chuckle. 

“Okay fine,” Sonny relented, pocketing the idea for the time being, “at least let me walk you in, see if the line’s too bad or if you’ve got time before you have to get through security.” They knew this moment had been coming, knew that they’d have to say goodbye at some point, and for all the texting and facetime and phone calls, it wouldn’t be the same, and Sonny couldn’t quite bite back the aching pang in the pit of his stomach at the thought, that he wouldn’t know when they’d see each other next. 

Rafael nodded, and they stepped inside. The terminal was more crowded than either cared to consider, and Sonny reluctantly carried Rafael’s suitcase over to the end of the line for security. “You sure you can’t convince the senate to recess for just a little longer?” Sonny teased lightly, his head bowed as he took Rafael’s hand in his.  

He chuckled lightly, squeezing Sonny’s hand with a sort of reassuring firmness. “I’ll call you when I land,” Rafael replied before pulling Sonny into a tight, lingering hug, only parting when the line started to continue behind them. “See you soon, okay?” Sonny was always easy to read, but melancholy settled into his features was especially evident even to the most unobservant. 

Sonny swallowed the lump in his throat, “yeah, I’ll talk to you soon,” he turned to leave, “I love you,” the words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to consider what he was saying, before they even had a chance to register as he headed back to the door. It was only the cool spring morning air that brought the wave of clarity crashing over him, the recognition of what he’d said. 

* * *

“Wasn’t sure I was ever going to see you again, to be honest,” Amanda remarked as she settled onto the corner of Sonny’s desk, pointedly ignoring the disgruntled look on his face as she pushed files and papers out of the way. 

“You saw me yesterday, Amanda,” Sonny groaned, closing the file he had been studying to prepare for their next podcast. “We got coffee and were here working for eight hours.” He tossed the file into a stack on his desk, breath catching as the pile wavered, threatening to fall. But it didn’t and he turned his attention back to the woman perched on his desk. 

“I was worried you were going to buy a one way ticket to DC, to be honest,” Amanda retorted quickly. “Don’t pretend the thought didn’t cross your mind. I prepared a second set of notes just incase I had to record alone,” she was teasing, had been teasing him mercilessly since he had admitted to the windswept romantic gesture of Rafael arriving at his doorstep a week ago. 

After a few choice words, about how Sonny needed to make sure Rafael was in it, how Amanda was ready to throw down if Rafael hurt him again, she’d relented, and admitted she was happy for him. And then the moment of niceties had passed, replaced by the teasing.

“Never considered it,” Sonny replied indignantly, but it faded slightly as he admitted, “I did consider buying the cheapest ticket just to wait with him on the other side of security though, honestly.” 

Amanda made a dramatic retching noise, saved by the sound of a heavy knock on the office door, and she slid off the corner of his desk to answer it. She pulled the door open, and hesitated, craning her neck slightly to look at the towering tree of a man standing in their doorway. 

“I hope I’m in the right place,” he smiled genially, “Trevor Langan,” he held out his hand. “I’m looking for Ms. Rollins?” 

Amanda smiled, shaking his hands, and Sonny smirked at the southern drawl in her tone, just a bit heavier than usual, “you’ve found the right place, you can call me Amanda, this is Sonny.” She gestured him into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Can I get you anything? Water? Soda?” 

“That’s alright, I’m fine thank you,” Trevor responded with a soft smile. 

Sonny shot Amanda a pointed glance, which she promptly ignored, and he stood up from his desk, “nice to meet you, thanks for coming in today,” he shook the man’s hand, pausing for a moment to appreciate just how tall the man really was. 

“Thanks for inviting me, I have to say, the interviews I’ve done in the past generally have a vastly different target audience,” Trevor admitted with a soft laugh. “The stuffy old academic types are usually the only ones concerned with constitutional law scholarship.” 

Amanda beamed, “that’s what we loved about your book though, you know our listeners are really trying to be engaged and informed voters, they care about the law, about politics, but so much of it is inaccessible, but your book is so easy to read for someone with no background in the law.” Sonny hadn’t seen that sort of fervor spill out of Amanda’s mouth since he’d made the mistake of criticizing the Braves. 

“Let’s head into the studio, don’t want to waste his time, considering we’re not paying him,” Sonny joked, ushering them both inside. 

“You know the drill?” Amanda asked, sliding her chair closer to Trevor’s as she adjusted the mics. “Just talk at a normal volume, we’re going to do our intro, we’ll introduce you, and then we’ll just have a bit of a conversation.”

“Don’t let Amanda’s heart eyes distract you,” Sonny commented, his tone painfully serious before cracking a grin. 

“He’s a toddler who can’t sit still, if anyone’s distracting, it’s him,” she pointed at him with a playful snarl. Sonny just twisted back and forth in his desk chair. 

Trevor laughed lightly, seemingly unphased by their antics. “Shall we get started then?”

Sonny watched the count on Amanda’s fingers before hitting the record button. “Good morning and welcome to The Sonday Report, where moderately average people who know some things try to break down some really serious issues with the help of really intelligent people. I’m your co-host and titular character, Sonny Carisi, former presidential speech writer.” 

“And I’m the actual host, Amanda Rollins, also a former presidential speech writer, and, in two months time, a published author,” she glanced between Trevor and Sonny, still spinning in his chair, unable to keep the proud grin off her face. 

“Amanda’s been working on this book since we left the White House, and you should all be super excited about it. It’s all about our path on Obama’s campaign, and working in the White House and its a real insider’s perspective, she goes into a lot of things that we’ve never been allowed to talk about on the podcast because it went through vetting with the FBI and other intelligence agencies and the like. What’s it called again, ‘Manda?” Sonny looked up teasingly, crossing his leg in his chair. 

“How the West Wing Was Won,” Amanda replied quickly, a self-satisfied grin still plastered on her face. “And it’s about that, but it’s also about handling a toddler in the White House, probably especially relevant now.” 

“What? You didn’t have Jesse back when then?” Sonny furrowed his brow. 

“I know.” Amanda replied with a grin, waiting for it to land. 

“Oh.” There it was. “Oh how dare you compare me to him.” 

Amanda just let out a loud laugh. 

“Yeah, so everyone should go pre-order the book anyway because Amanda’s been nothing but a ball of anxiety for the past few months, and frankly you’d all be doing me a favor, since I’m your favorite,” Sonny added.

Amanda rolled her eyes, “you all should definitely pre-order, I’ve been working super hard on this and I really think y’all are gonna like it,” the accent even more pronounced, she turned to Trevor, “today we have a special guest here to talk about his own book, and it’s a particularly hot topic at the moment.”

“Professor Trevor Langan, thank you so much for being a guest on the pod today,” Sonny picked up where she left off. 

“Thank you for having me,” the man nodded slowly, “I was really thrilled that you reached out.” 

“We both loved your book, I actually read it first and gave it to Amanda because I knew she’d love it- which I’m sure is not what you want to hear so we’ll pretend we bought two copies,” Sonny joked, earning a pleasant chuckle from Trevor. 

“I think we can let that slide.” 

“So you’re not just an author, you’re a constitutional law scholar and a professor at Columbia Law School. Your book is called Fundamentally Flawed: The Historic Relationship Between Judicial Scrutiny and the Second Amendment. Can you give us a little overview of what the book is about, for our listeners who haven’t read it yet?” Amanda requested, folding her hands across the desk as she leaned forward a little.   
“Absolutely,” Trevor nodded, “so most people are familiar with the Second Amendments that states ‘A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.’ This was ratified December 15th, 1791, and has pretty much been a subject of debate ever since.” 

He paused, taking a breath, “generally the Supreme Court is charged with interpreting the US Constitution. People sometimes like to think of the three branches of our government as equals, but Marbury v. Madison established the idea of Judicial Supremacy which threw everything out of balance. So now today, when we discuss matters of Constitutional interpretation, we’re reading the Constitution in light of previous Supreme Court decisions, called precedent.” 

“So how does that relate to the Second Amendment,” Sonny guided gently, getting the feeling, that like any professor, he’d be able to keep talking for ages about the subject. 

“So when people like to talk about the Second Amendment, often times they talk about it like its an unqualified right, that it’s not subject to restrictions or regulations because its a fundamental right. But this is simply isn’t true. We also consider freedom of speech and the press a fundamental right enshrined in the First Amendment, and yet we recognize all sorts of legal restrictions on it, libel and slander laws, copyright and trademark laws, hate speech restrictions.”

Trevor paused again, shifting in his chair to cross one leg across his knee. “The mistake people make is thinking that because something is protected by the constitution, because something is a fundamental right, that its unlimited. Its not. Instead, it just means that when a court is evaluating a legal restriction on that right, it’s subjected to a certain level of scrutiny.”

Amanda furrowed her brow, they’d both read the book of course, but knew it was important to make sure they broke everything down for the listeners. “So what exactly do you mean by scrutiny?”

Trevor nodded, “scrutiny is the burden that a law has to overcome in order to be held constitutional. So there’s generally three levels, rational basis, intermediate scrutiny and strict scrutiny. Strict scrutiny as you might assume, is the highest level, it means that the government trying to pass the law has to prove it has a compelling government interest in the law and that it is narrowly tailored to achieve its results. Strict scrutiny only really applies in matters of discrimination, and the core concern of Constitutional Amendments.”

“In the case of the Second Amendment, the Supreme Court in DC v. Heller decided that the core concern was self defense in the home. That means that strict scrutiny will apply to any laws that aim to restrict owning guns for the purpose of defending one’s home. But again, even there, the government can pass a restristriction as long as they can prove that there’s a compelling interest in the restriction, and that the restriction is narrowly tailored to meet that end.” 

“This was sort of crazy to me reading the book, honestly,” Amanda mused aloud, “I grew up in Georgia, pretty much any talk about the Second Amendment was about being able to fend off the government in case of a civil war, and about how it was this ultimate right, it just goes to show how different society’s perception can be from what the rule of law actually is.” 

Sonny nodded in agreement, “and it shows how different it is in different areas of the country, growing up in Staten Island, I don’t think I knew a single kid who’s family owned guns. I remember going hunting with a college buddy once, and I was blown away that he actually owned guns, plural.” 

Trevor shifted in his chair, “exactly, and these conversations are so important because they help dispel a lot of the misinformation that circulates after tragedies, mass shootings, or any move really to add common sense gun restrictions.”

“I think you’re absolutely right. Thank you again for joining us, Trevor,” Amanda smiled. “We’re about out of time. Anything you wanted to add, Sonny?” She leaned back in her chair, an air of casual confidence about her. 

“Just wanted to say it again, you should all go pre-order Amanda’s book, How the West Wing Was Won, it’ll be out in on July 3rd, just in time for everyone to read at your 4th of July barbecues. Maybe I should write a book,” Sonny mused with a grin. 

“What would you write a book about?” Amanda cut in quickly. 

“About my job, writing presidential speeches, all that jazz,” Sonny smirked. 

“You have no good stories, all of your good stories were my stories and I already told them,” Amanda teased. 

“Says you, maybe this will be a tell all, I’ll reveal my deep dark secrets that even you don’t know,” Sonny retorted. 

“Alright well that’s all we have time for, thanks again, Sondasies, talk to you next week!”

* * *

Sonny was aching, bone tired when he finally got back to his apartment at the end of the day, nearly midnight. He had finished up work on the podcast and some of the new projects they were starting around dinner time, but Amanda had coaxed him into coming over to help her set up Jesse’s new toddler bed, and then after dinner Bella had called, informing him that Tommy had a fever, and asking if he could babysit while she took him to the ER. 

Sonny loved his niece, and his sister, and Amanda and Jesse too, but there was no doubt about the fact that they were exhausting. He stripped off his shirt as he crossed the threshold into his apartment, kicking the door shut, and cast the fabric across an empty chair. His chest clenched tightly for a moment as he reminded himself that Rafael wasn’t there, that he’d gone home to DC. 

In just a week he’d gotten so used to the man’s presence in his apartment. Sonny tossed his keys and his wallet on the coffee table and headed straight for his bedroom. He shimmied out of his jeans before letting his tired body sink into the plush comfort of his bed, inhaling deeply. He could still detect the traces of Rafael’s cologne still lingering in the sheets. 

Sonny rolled onto his back and reached for his phone, scrolling through a few of the texts they’d exchanged since Rafael landed in DC hours ago. It was late, and Rafael had to be up early for a meeting, but there was no harm in trying, he figured, and pressed the little facetime button to initiate a call. 

To his surprise, Rafael answered almost immediately, the screen coming into view with half damp hair, and reading glasses, and a soft, sweet smile that made Sonny’s chest ache. They still hadn’t mentioned it, the three words Sonny had let slip as they parted ways. He wondered briefly if Rafael had heard them at all, but he was more than pretty sure. 

“It’s late for you, isn’t it?” Sonny remarked, settling back against the pillows against his headboard. 

“You called me,” Rafael chuckled lightly. “So it wasn’t too late for you to think I might still be up.” 

Sonny rolled his eyes, shifting the phone to his other hand, “I just remember you saying you had to be up early tomorrow is all. I figured if you were already asleep, you wouldn’t answer,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Yeah I should be asleep already really, I’m just reviewing some notes for the morning…” he trailed off a bit, “I miss you.” 

A light blush settled over the bridge of Sonny’s nose, “I miss you too.” 

A feral grin pulled at the corner of Rafael’s mouth, “you love me.” 

Sonny groaned, sinking further into the pillows, letting his face fall out of view of the camera as the light blush blossomed into a bright red shade, spreading from the tips of his ears down his neck and chest. 

“No come back,” Rafael let out a little laugh, and Sonny righted the camera. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said, you were already talking about me coming too strong and I, its okay I don’t expect you to say anything you know it just sort of-” Sonny babbled until Rafael finally cut him off. 

“Sonny, Sonny stop,” the feral grin faded to something more sincere, more earnest, something that Sonny swore made his heart stop. “I love you too, okay?” 

The phone slipped out of Sonny’s grasp, bouncing on the bed as he sat in stunned silence for a moment, a chorus of laughter erupting from the phone as Sonny scrambled to pick it back up, bright eyed and beaming. “You do?”

Rafael just nodded softly. 

“Well that’s a relief,” Sonny breathed out a small sigh, settling further into the pillows, eyes already heavy lidded and threatening to close. “How was your day?” 

Rafael launched into his usual complaints about crowded airports, and airline delays and DC traffic, and Sonny fought to stay awake, but it was only a few minutes later when he drifted off to sleep. 

Rafael fought back the affectionate smile, and whispered a gentle, “I really do love you, Sonny,” before reluctantly disconnecting the call.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its later than I usually post, but it's technically still Sunday here so I haven't broken my streak! One more to go, I hope you all enjoy this!

“Are you seriously doing the dishes right now?” Sonny muttered as he settled back into the downy pillows on his bed, phone in hand, held up so that he could see the man puttering around the kitchen on his screen. 

“I’m sorry, I know we haven’t had a chance to talk all day, but I’m going to pass out the moment I sit down and if I don’t do these now they’re going to sit here for ages,” Rafael replied as he propped his own phone up on the window sill in front of the sink and turned the water on. 

“I have to be up early tomorrow, I was just hoping to get to talk to you before I fell asleep,” Sonny sighed heavily and rolled on his side, phone still held out far enough to keep his face in the frame, even as his eyelids threatened to close. 

It had been going on like that for a while, and while Sonny knew it wasn’t either of their faults, it was frustrating how little they seemed to actually be able to see each other. They had known, Sonny had known that Rafael was constantly busy. Between Senate sessions and his committee meetings, and meeting with constituents, and the social obligations he had, Rafael barely had time to get home some nights. And while he had hoped to get back to see Sonny while the Senate was in recess, he’d only managed once in the past few months. 

Neither of them had thought to consider that Rafael would need to begin campaigning for re-election so soon, and it had eaten up whatever spare time Rafael had expected to have. 

Sonny tried to tell himself he was okay with it, but nights like this, when he had hoped to settle down and end the night just talking to Rafael only to find that something else was interrupting, made it that much harder. 

“I know, I know, I miss having the time to just sit and talk with you,” Rafael frowned apologetically, eyes softening as he looked up from the soapy water and dishes in front of him. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back to the city last week, too,” he added, and Sonny sighed again, because he knew Rafael meant it, knew it wasn’t just Rafael’s schedule keeping them apart. 

“You don’t have to apologize, I know you had to go up to Albany, that’s life, I know, and you know. I’ve been busy too, I don’t want you to think I’m blaming you or anything,” Sonny replied quickly through a wide yawn, pulling the downy comforter up over his shoulder with his free hand, sinking further into the pillows. 

Rafael set another dish in the rack and turned off the water, drying his hands before he picked up the phone. “Look didn’t even take me that long,” he smiled softly, carrying his phone with him as he headed towards his own bedroom, and Sonny squinted a bit, trying not to let the jostling movement on his screen make him nauseous. 

“Get your pajamas on and talk to me then,” Sonny smiled, eyes still threatening to close. “How was work today, was Rita as obnoxious as she usually is?” Rafael almost always managed to send a text during his lunch period complaining about her, and her office’s proximity to his, but Rafael had been radio silent all day. 

“What do you think I’m doing? Today was just long, we worked through lunch so I didn’t get a chance to complain but I didn’t need to either, because Rita was actually in meetings at the White House all day so I didn’t see her either.” Rafael laughed, perching the phone on a shelf in his closet, glancing back at the screen every so often as he unbuttoned his shirt and hung it back up, moving it to the dirty side to take to the dry cleaner. 

“Hey,” Sonny called, snapping Rafael’s attention back to the phone. “I can only see your face,” a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and Rafael just rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sure you didn’t expect to get a strip show from a United States Senator tonight,” Rafael replied with mock seriousness. “Imagine the scandal.” But he took a few steps back anyway as he peeled his undershirt off and tossed it into the laundry pile. 

“I didn’t want to say I expected one, but I certainly wouldn’t say no, if it were on the table,” Sonny replied, shifting a bit to get a better look at the screen, fighting back another yawn. 

Rafael chuckled softly, slipping out of his suit pants to pull on a pair of pajamas, “maybe another night, babe, you look like you’re going to fall asleep any second,” he smiled affectionately as he climbed into his own bed, phone in hand. 

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Sonny admitted reluctantly, eyes half closed. “Do you want to stay on a bit longer?” He yawned again as he spoke, punctuating his words. 

“Why don’t we say good night, I’ll try to get out a bit earlier tomorrow, alright?” Rafael let out a soft sigh as he settled under the covers on his bed. 

“I’ve got to babysit for Bella tomorrow night, so I’m not sure how much free time I’ll have,” Sonny replied, eyes already closed. 

“Oh,” Rafael nodded, “I forgot you mentioned that the other day. Well, I’ll make sure to call you on my lunch break at least,” he added hopefully. “I should have a bit of a lighter day.” 

That was the problem, Sonny couldn’t help but think to himself, whenever Rafael had a bit of free time, he was busy, and the opposite proved true often enough as well. “Amanda and I have business meetings most of the day but I’ll step out when you call.” A few minutes would be better than nothing. “I love you,” he added. 

“I love you too, Sonny,” Rafael replied softly before hanging up the call. 

* * *

“I haven’t seen him in three months, Amanda. Three months,” Sonny groaned quietly as he walked out of Jesse’s bedroom, closing the door after having tucked her in for the night, always his job when he spent time with them. 

“Sonny, I swear to god, I’m so sick of hearing you whine,” Amanda rolled her eyes from her seat on the couch, feet already kicked up on the coffee table and her eyes fixed on the TV, the most recent episode of the Bachelor. 

“I’m not whining, I’m complaining, I’ve been in this relationship for what, four and a half months? And we’ve spent what, two weeks in the same city?” Sonny huffed, dropping dramatically into the other corner of the couch, kicking up his feet to rest in Amanda’s lap. She turned away from the TV to look at him, scowling.

“You’ve told me this approximately a million times,” she replied, shifting to get comfortable again with Sonny’s heels digging into her thighs. “Your feet stink,” she wrinkled her nose. “I get it, you guys are busy, you don’t get to see each other, you’re disgustingly in love,” Amanda rolled her eyes. “Why not buy a ticket and go see him? It’s not like you don’t have the money.”

The Podcast was still doing exceptionally well, and their viewership had exploded exponentially when Sonny had finally confirmed that he and Rafael were dating. Sonny had never expected the positive feedback, the overwhelming support and praise from the community. 

He tried to keep up with all of the messages, and the emails and even letters sent to their offices, the ones telling him how he was an inspiration, that he’d given them hope, that he’d saved their lives. It wasn’t something he took lightly. Sonny could remember all too easily what it had been like, growing up, a queer little Italian Catholic. And he knew all too well how much easier it would have been, if he’d had someone to look up to. 

“Money isn’t the issue, and you know it,” he rolled his eyes and turned to look at the TV, watching the Bachelor, whoever he was, agonize over handing out roses. “There’s just no time, not with everything going on, and I’d get there and he’d spend most of his time working and in meetings anyway,” Sonny shrugged. 

He jumped a bit, startled by the vibration of his phone in his pocket against his thigh, and he dug it out of his jeans, checking the message, just a text from Rafael but Sonny couldn’t fight back the smile on his face at the message. 

**Going to be here all night, probably, but just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.**

“He better be sending you nudes for that kind of smile,” Amanda remarked dryly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again, but the sentiment wasn’t lost on Sonny anyway. 

Sonny just shot her a pointed glare before turning back to his phone to type out a quick reply. 

**Spending the night with Amanda, so no worries. Miss you.**

“Maybe that’s what you need,” she continued with a grin, “good old fashioned phone sex” 

Sonny dropped the phone back down to his lap and turned to look at her. “You’re annoying. And I’m pretty sure phone sex is not quote, old fashioned…” he trailed off, “but in any event, it doesn’t replace the real thing.” 

Amanda grimaced, apparently immediately regretting the direction she’d decided to take the conversation. “Okay maybe not, so send an erotic letter by mail or something, that’s plenty old fashioned,” she laughed lightly. 

“It’s seriously been like three months, Amanda, I mean I knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park or anything, with our schedules, and you being so incredibly demanding with my attention since you’re incapable of cooking for yourself,” he couldn’t help but throw in the digs with a small grin, trying to keep his voice down. It had taken ages to get Jesse settled and he didn’t want to be the one to wake her up. 

“I swear to god, Sonny, if we have to keep talking about this, I’m going to become a Republican,” Amanda turned her attention back to the tv, remote still in hand as she turned the volume up a bit. 

“You would never. Maybe before the president, but not anymore,” Sonny couldn’t help but laugh, it was an empty threat at best. They’d spent too much time together working out the finer details of public policy for speeches for him to take her seriously. 

“Don’t tempt me, Sonny, I’ll side with Rita on everything and you and your little boyfriend can get your panties in a twist every week on the pod,” Amanda replied, a biting edge to her tone, but Sonny knew better than to be offended by it. There wasn’t much that couldn’t be said between them, she was like a fourth sister, one that he actually got along with most of the time. 

“You’d just end up hating yourself, it would totally backfire,” Sonny retorted quickly, only to be shushed by Amanda, apparently then deciding that the program on TV was more important than the conversation, and Sonny just huffed, settling back to watch. 

* * *

Rafael sighed heavily as he crossed the threshold back into his office, immediately heading to the windows to draw the heavy curtains closed. It was midday, and he’d just gotten out of a four hour long, incredibly fruitless meeting with some of the White House staff. His head was already pounding, had been for the last few hours as he argued the finer points of the proposed Children’s Health Insurance Plan bill he and fellow senators wanted to introduce. 

He sank into the couch across from his desk, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He had more meetings in the afternoon, suspected they’d go well into the night, and really Rafael knew he ought to have ordered something for lunch, but food seemed secondary. 

It had been almost four months since he’d seen Sonny last, and they’d only managed to exchange a few brief words that morning before they had to rush off to their respective meetings. Rafael knew it was petulant, and childish, but all he wanted was to settle down with Sonny, and take a few moments to breathe. 

But there was over a thousand miles between them, and facetime would have to suffice. 

Rafael adjusted himself on the couch and unlocked his phone quickly, heading right to his recents to call Sonny. It rang once, and then twice before picking up, connecting to video of Sonny, still fumbling with the phone, “hang on a sec,” he announced quickly, and Rafael just nodded patiently, already feeling his tension ease. 

“There,” Sonny smiled into the phone, having connected his headphones, and Rafael noticed he was outside on the street, walking somewhere. “Sorry, I’m on my way to a meeting, but I can talk while I walk.” Bright blue eyed and smiling, it hit Rafael right in the chest every time. 

“Its okay, if you’re busy, I can let you go,” Rafael replied gingerly. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but Sonny just shook his head. 

“No, no, I’m glad you called. I’ve got a few more blocks to go, so it’s okay,” he smiled impossibly wider. “How was your morning? You had that meeting at the White House, right?”

Rafael nodded, sliding further down the back of the couch, “yeah, it was nauseating, and pretty much as pointless as I expected. They’re not interested in negotiating anything, just wasting my time.” He paused for a moment, “you know you look like you have a double chin when you hold the phone at that angle.” 

Sonny laughed loudly, no doubt drawing the attention of other pedestrians around him, but he didn’t seem to care, “that’s why I got into podcasts instead of youtube videos,” he laughed, “so no one has to see my chins. You love them though, right?”

Rafael snorted, rather undignified, “I don’t know if I love them per say, but I’d love you even if you had three.” 

Sonny chuckled lightly, but frowned as his apple watch pulled his attention, “shit I didn’t realize how late I was,” Rafael could see him pick up his pace, the jostling of the phone in his hand getting worse. “I know I said I’d have time to talk tonight earlier, but I talked with Amanda and we’ve got a dinner meeting I wasn’t planning on,” he added apologetically. 

Rafael sighed, “we haven’t talked for more than a few minutes all week it seems like.” It wasn’t that he wanted to nag, he was acutely aware of how much of their missed communication was his fault, but he couldn’t help the disappointment. 

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” Sonny frowned, turning his attention back to the phone in his hand, trying to meet Rafael’s eye. “Things have just been really crazy here, trying to get all of these other projects going besides the podcast.” 

“I know, I’m not blaming you or anything,” Rafael shrugged his shoulders, “I just, we’ve been doing this for how many months now? And we’ve barely spent any time together, and I know that’s mostly my fault, with the re-election campaign taking up so much of my free time…” he trailed off, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 

Sonny’s face softened, and Rafael’s stomach churned with guilt, “I just,” he continued, “we said we were going to try and make it work, and it feels like it’s not working.” 

Sonny sighed pausing in front of a building Rafael could only assume was his destination. “I know it’s been rough, Rafi, but let’s not jump the gun on anything, okay? We knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and I want to make it work,” Sonny bit his lip, “I’m sorry this is bad timing, but I really have to go. Can we continue this conversation later? I’ll try to get out of dinner early.” 

Rafael just nodded and offered a soft, “love you,” before Sonny disconnected the call, leaving Rafael alone with nothing but the darkness of his office, curtains still drawn and blocking out the sunlight, the room only illuminated by the soft glow of his phone screen. 

“It’s like a crypt in here.” 

Rafael jumped at the voice, turning his gaze to the door, only a familiar head peeking around the corner of the door frame. 

“Rita, I already have a headache, I’m not in the mood for your cryptkeeper jokes today,” he groaned, letting his eyes flutter closed, a hand resting on his temples, trying not to let her see how watery his eyes had gotten from the brief conversation with Sonny. 

“You’re the worst mood killer,” Rita remarked dryly. “I’ll have you know I was trying to be a good friend, and I brought you lunch,” she stepped into the office, flipping on the light to show the paper and plastic bag she had in her hand, the hallmark of Chinese take out, and exactly what Rafael wanted. Or at least, exactly what he wanted as soon as he saw it, and his stomach rumbled loudly. 

“That’s what I thought,” Rita added with a self-satisfied smirk, dropping into the armchair next to the couch,  unpacking the paper boxes and plastic containers filled with food. “What’s got you moping like some sort of nocturnal creature?” She knew better than anyone what a headache looked like on Rafael, knew it was more than that. 

“I thought you were here to feed me, not to psychoanalyze me,” Rafael retorted, reaching for the General Tso’s and a pair of chopsticks. Rita had been his closest friend for years, all the way back to their Harvard days, and he wasn’t exactly keen on sharing, but she had a way of prying information out of him. 

“The food is a bribe and you know it,” Rita replied matter of factly, opening another carton and leaning back in the chair. “So tell me, what’s going on with the podcast puppy.” Rafael grimaced at the nickname. “Did you drive him away already?”

He rolled his eyes. “I guess so. I don’t know,” he stabbed half-heartedly at a piece of chicken. “It’s just not really going well. I really like him, and I think he feels the same way, but we barely see each other, the last week or so we’ve barely managed to say a few words to each other a day.” 

Rita paused thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before contemplating aloud, “I mean, you knew you were going to be busy. It’s not like this is an easy job. I’m sure he’s busy too so that can’t be easy,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but doesn’t sound like it’s either one of your faults.” 

“It just seems like he doesn’t have time for me, doesn’t seem like he’s interested in making time for me,” Rafael muttered, more to himself than anything, gaze still focused on the take out container. 

“Are you expecting him to be the one making all the time, Raf? Sounds like you’re doing that thing you do,” Rita pointed her chopsticks at him accusingly, but he just furrowed his brow in confusion. “That thing where you think because your job is so important you shouldn’t have to give up anything, and you assume that other person is supposed to work around your schedule.” 

“I’m a public servant, Rita, it’s not like I can set my own schedule like he does,” Rafael responded. 

Rita just raised an eyebrow knowingly, “that’s what I mean. You’re expecting him to change his schedule to work around yours, you can’t do that, Raf. You drive away every guy that way. He might not be a Senator but his job is still his job.” 

Rafael scowled, “I know, and I know his job is important to him. I don’t really expect him to work around me.” 

Rita just shrugged her shoulders, “then aren’t those few minutes you get together still better than nothing?” 

Rafael paused, looking back down at his food. “Yeah, they are.”

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Rafael finally reached the front door of his little brownstone and let himself in. The meetings had gone on far longer than he had anticipated, but it didn’t seem to matter anyway. Sonny had sent him a text around dinner time, saying that he missed him, but that he couldn’t call. 

Rafael dropped his briefcase at the door, kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his tie, casting it over the arm of a chair, along with his suit jacket. He was exhausted, muscles and joint, even his bones aching from the fourteen hour day he’d put in, only pausing for the call earlier, and the food with Rita. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall to the floor as he crossed the threshold into his bedroom, and he kicked off his suit pants as well before dropping into his bed face first. 

It wasn’t just his body that was exhausted. He’d been meeting on all sorts of different pieces of legislation and keeping them straight had been difficult enough on a normal day, but his mind had been running spirals, hyper analyzing the situation with Sonny, every exchange they’d had in the past few days. 

Something just seemed off. They’d been going at it for four months, but it wasn’t until recently that Sonny seemed to have gone MIA, and Rafael couldn’t figure it out. Sonny usually managed to at least get in a few minutes of conversation before bed, even when he babysat for Amanda, or Bella, but the last week he’d been too busy, or in meetings. 

Meetings, vague and obscure. Rafael knew there were things Sonny didn’t tell him about with the business side of the podcast, the different projects they were working on because there just wasn’t enough time in the day to explain it all with the limited time they had. But the noncommittal responses only seemed to be getting more vague, not less, and Rafael wasn’t sure what to think of vague midnight meetings. 

His stomach churned, not really wanting to think about the possibilities.

Instead, he nestled into the pillows and scrolled through his phone contacts before finding Sonny’s name. Rafael hesitated for a moment, he didn’t want to be a bother, but he hadn’t heard from Sonny in nearly six hours, so he dialed the phone number and held the phone to his ear. 

One ring, and then two and three. 

Voicemail. 

Rafael hung up the phone, pulled it from his ear, watching the screen. Even when Sonny was busy, he always sent an apology text, just a quick reply to let Rafael know everything was okay. 

But the minutes ticked on, one and then two, then five and Rafael sighed trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he set his phone back on the nightstand and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, all of the legislation mentioned in this work of fiction is real, and currently introduced into the House. You can look them up if you'd like, and I encourage any US citizens to support them. Additionally, all of the statistics and facts about sexual assault and domestic violence were in fact findings reported by Congress. Take it as you will.


End file.
